Soundless
by Geekachu
Summary: For Gold, fulfilling his dream of becoming the next great pokémon trainer isn't going to be easy. Especially with a criminal organization plotting to take over Johto, a mother who thinks he'll drown in a puddle, and a snarky red-haired rival. Oh, and being deaf never seems to help, either. Follows the general storyline of HG/SS.
1. Sound and Silence

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.

OoOoOoOoO

Chapter 1: Sound and Silence

The lab was rather noisy that morning, as usual. It was breakfast time for a certain trio of pokémon in the lab, and they always seemed determined to be as loud as possible. If it wasn't the totodile trying to start a food fight, it was the chikorita chattering away nonstop, or else it was the cyndaquil crying because the totodile was trying to take her food. Often it was all three at once.

The boy in charge of feeding the pokémon obviously wasn't bothered by the din. Currently he was sitting on the smooth tile floor, stroking the miserable cyndaquil in his lap. Meanwhile, the totodile danced in circles, chanting "Toto! Toto! Toto!" at the top of his lungs. The chikorita cast a wary glance at the blue reptile before scooting his bowl away and scarfing down the rest of his breakfast. Such was a typical day at the New Bark Town Laboratory.

The boy holding the upset young pokémon didn't exactly look like a very capable handler. He was scrawny and pale, and his messy black hair did no favors for his washed-out complexion. He was nearly fifteen years old, but his small stature made him look closer to twelve. His brows were narrow and arched, giving his mostly open and friendly face a slightly haughty appearance . He looked like an inexperienced kid, even he would admit. Most of the other lab assistants were surprised he was even hired, but the Professor needed all the help he could get.

It was a good thing the boy took to pokémon care like a goldeen to water. He was a willing and hard worker, and the pokémon seemed drawn to his presence. It also freed up the professionally trained staff for the more technical work.

_Calm down_ _Cyndaquil._ _We have more food, you know_, the teenager thought, hoping to appease her.

_That food is stupid. I want mine back. Gold, make him give it back! _the fire-type replied unhappily, projecting her thoughts back at at him.

Gold couldn't help but give a soundless laugh. _What do you want me to do, make him barf it up?_

Cyndaquil shot him a disgusted look out of her squinty eyes. _Yuck_. She wrinkled her snout. _Fine, get me more. I'm hungry_. She sniffled pathetically for effect.

Gold laughed again as he got up from the floor, still holding the furry pokemon, and made his way towards the food bin marked Small Fire-Types. He refilled one one of the feed bowls and placed her on an examination table where she could eat in peace, and all was well. At least for now.

Gold looked around the lab. The place was very tidy (with the exception of his boss's desk), and along the walls, there were many shelves filled neatly with a variety of interesting things; reference books, research papers, specimen jars, and different types of poké balls, just to name a few. There were several doors that led to different rooms that required special permission to enter. The center of the laboratory was open and spacious, giving the place an airy feel.

As he put the feed bowls away and swept up some crumbs from the floor, Gold felt grateful to work here and be around so many pokémon, even if he only cared for three of them. Still, he often wondered . . .

Suddenly, the lab door swung open and a harried-looking man in a lab coat stumbled in. He was carrying a stack of folders under his arm, a notepad and pen in his hands, and a cellphone on his shoulder. His glasses were crooked and looked close to falling off. He precariously made his way towards his desk, which was unfortunately on the far end of the lab. He was speaking nervously on his phone and jotting down notes at a rapid pace, all while trying to not trip over his own feet.

"Yes, I'd be delighted - oh, of course - would tomorrow work? I can have someone there by eleven - thank you so much, Mr. Pokémon, I'm looking forward to seeing it -" It was all going so well, he was ten feet from the desk and hadn't dropped anything yet, just a few more steps. . . .

He tripped.

The man in the lab coat went down with a very loud thump, as pen, papers, and phone went flying. He dived towards his phone and fumbled with it for a moment before having firmly back in his hands. He stuttered apologies into it, not even bothering to get up off the floor. After several moments of asking and answering questions, note writing, and more apologies (all while lying on the floor), he hung up with a sigh of relief.

Getting a hold of Mr. Pokemon was no easy feat; the man had a busy schedule, and regularly traveled to far regions. He had just flown in from a four-month-long Sinnoh visit, and was only staying several weeks back home before setting off again. All in the name of a hobby - or at least that's what he called it. More of an obsession, in many a person's opinion. But regardless, Mr. Pokémon sometimes (though not always) made some spectacular discoveries, and many professors were eager to study his findings.

Gold was just corralling the trio of young pokémon in their indoor pen when he looked up and saw what had happened. He rushed over and began to collect the papers together, resisting the urge to smile ruefully; when working for Professor Elm, scattered notes and documents were regular occurrences. Nearly anything he held was in immediate danger of falling from his arms. Gold always held his breath when the man held any pokémon, but by some miracle, he never dropped those.

"Thanks," the Professor said, speaking and making a hand gesture at the same. Not that he needed to say anything aloud - Gold couldn't hear him anyway - but he was less than fluent in sign language, and Gold could usually read his lips whenever Elm couldn't remember a sign or used the wrong one. Which was fairly often.

Gold smiled. '_No problem,_' he signed back. ''_Who was on the phone_?'

Elm finally got up from the floor and rubbed his aching head a moment before replying. "That was Mr. Pokémon. He has an egg he wants me to look at. He says it could be a rare species. I'm picking it up from his house tomorrow."

Gold smiled and gave a congratulatory thumbs-up, but he was suddenly reminded of his problem and felt a stab of self-pity. If he thought there was any sort of chance of his mom allowing him, he would've offered to run the errand himself. He rarely ventured away from his hometown, and never without an escort. His mom was nervous even having him work for the Professor, let alone him being near wild pokémon. Getting her to let him work in the laboratory had taken months, and that was after the assurance from the Elm that all the pokémon Gold would be working with were bred in captivity and very friendly. Sometimes, he appreciated the concern. At least he knew she cared. But most of the time, it just got on his nerves. It wasn't as though he was helpless. Gold had read countless books on pokémon, from school textbooks describing their behavior and habitats to comprehensive guides to battling. He'd been working for Professor Elm for over a year now, and had learned even more. He had always wanted to be a trainer, but that where his mom drew the line. Being around small and friendly pokémon was bad enough, but training wild ones? No, it was far too dangerous, in her humble opinion.

But she didn't know he spoke to them, and they spoke back. He knew she probably wouldn't believe him if he told her. Even if she did, Gold had a feeling that wouldn't change anything. She'd still worry and fret, and he'd still be stuck at home. But that wasn't the only reason he kept it a secret. He _liked_ being one of the only ones who knew, like he had some control over his own life. His best friend Lyra was the only other human being who knew, and she kept that knowledge under metaphorical lock and key.

"Gold?"

Gold was broken from his train of thought by a light tap on the arm. Professor Elm was looking at him in concern. "Are you okay?"

He nodded distractedly. _'I guess my shift is over. I'd better head home before Mom worries.' _

The Professor smiled in understanding. "A lot of moms are a little overprotective of their kids," he said (signing a few words) in an unexpected flash of insight. "She'll come around."

But Gold's face clearly expressed his thoughts on the matter._ I wish._

OoOoOoOoO

It was about seven o' clock in the evening when Professor Elm knocked on the door of the Heart household. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He didn't like to meddle, but his conscience wouldn't leave him alone. The sad, wistful look on his young assistant's face had been present more and more often these days, and Elm hoped he could help, at least a little. That's what neighbors were supposed to do. As he waited at the door, he thought about what he was going to say.

The door opened to reveal Gold's mother. Mrs. Heart was an attractive woman, with shoulder-length chestnut hair held back with a pink headband, bright brown eyes, and a very shapely figure. She looked nothing at all like Gold, and Elm supposed he took after his father in looks. Not that he'd ever ask - he'd heard very little about Mr. Heart, and none of it was good.

Mrs. Heart smiled upon seeing him. "Oh hello Professor! I haven't seen you in a while, how's everything?" she said, ushering him inside.

"Um, yes, everything's wonderful!" Elm said, stammering slightly. This was going to be difficult. "Well, not exactly everything. I mean it's . . . um . . . I was thinking about . . . you see, I wanted to talk to you about Gold -"

"Oh dear, did he do something wrong?" Suddenly, she looked panicked. "Did one of the pokémon hurt him? What happened? I knew I shouldn't have let him work there!" Gold looked fine when he came home! Was she that unobservant? Was she such a horrible mother that she didn't notice anything was wrong? Was -

She was interrupted from her thoughts by the Professor. "No, it's nothing like that, not at all! In fact, he's doing very well with his work. I just had a favor to ask."

Mrs. Heart let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Oh, thank goodness." Maybe she wasn't such a bad mom after all. "I'm sure Gold would be happy to help. What's the favor?"

This was the tricky part. "Well, I need to do some research on pokémon egg a friend of mine has. It could prove to be very important in my studies." (Or it could just be a regular egg, but there was no need to tell her that.) "People call him Mr. Pokémon, I'm sure Gold's told you about him. He lives just north of Cherrygrove City, only a couple miles from here, and I'm supposed to pick the egg up tomorrow. But the thing is, I have a lot of work to do at the lab, and I just don't have the time." (Now came the part where he had to get her to agree with him; he wished he'd asked his wife for some tips.) "Gold, on the other hand, could easily head there after his morning shift was over. He could borrow a pokémon from the lab to accompany him. Like I said, it's just a few miles away, and he'd be back within a couple of hours -"

"No."

Well. That didn't go over the way he wanted it to. "Um, why not?"

She looked at him like he was either very rude or very stupid. "_Because_," (Okay, she thought he was stupid.) "it's too dangerous. What if a wild pokémon came up from behind him? He wouldn't notice until it was too late -"

"Um, that's what the borrowed pokémon would be for, and besides -"

"What if a mugger found him and -"

"You're worried about _muggers?_"

Mrs. Heart glared at him."I could go on and on about why it's a bad idea. He's fourteen years old! He's deaf! He's never been out on his own! Anything could go wrong! Besides, what's wrong with sending out one of your aids? They're certainly quite capable, and I wouldn't have to fear for my son's _life_."

Elm sighed. "I could," he said quietly, "but I really don't want to. You know, just as much as I do, that Gold would give anything to be a pokémon trainer, even for a little while. I've seen a lot of trainers with their pokémon, but I don't often see them with the connection that Gold has with ones that aren't even _his._ Please, Mrs. Heart. Even this little errand, one that would last only a few hours, would mean so much to him. Personally, I'd like to see him set out on a real journey. Have a little faith in him. He'll be grown up eventually, and when he is, he'll set off whether you want him to or not.

"I know you love your son. Let _him_ know that." He paused. "It's ironic, isn't it?" he said with a sad smile. "If you let a kid go, they'll always come back. But if you keep holding on, you'll lose them forever." He paused again. "I've seen it happen so many times. Please don't let it happen to you."

Mrs. Heart had tears glittering in her eyes. She'd thought about it before - letting Gold leave - but the thought of him lost and hurt and _alone_ had always made her change her mind. She could see the logic in Elm's words though. She'd been trying to keep her son safe for so long, that she forgot to think about what made him _happy_. And that's what she wanted most of all.

"All right," she said. "I'll let him run the errand. As for going on a real journey - I'll think about it."

Elm smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Heart. You won't regret it."

The two adults exchanged a few pleasantries before the Professor went on his way. As he made his way back home, he thought about the conversation he just had, and hoped Gold's mother meant what she said. When living in a small town where everybody knew everybody, you began to feel like they were all a sort of family. So few places were like that anymore, but that made Elm appreciate it that much more.

A few minutes later, he saw Gold racing towards a house which he knew to be his friend's, and even in the darkness, Gold's brilliant smile was hard to miss. Elm couldn't help smiling as well.

Things were looking up.

OoOoOoOoO

(Late that night)

Silver walked silently through the streets of Cherrygrove City, his head held slightly down. Occasionally, his grey eyes would dart around anxiously, as though waiting for an ambush. Hardly anyone was outside besides him, but all those buildings had windows. . . .

_Snap out of it, idiot,_ he berated himself. He was being inconspicuous. Someone strolling the town at night wasn't all that unusual, and if anyone did see him, they'd forget him in minutes. It wasn't as though he was crawling along on his belly or doing some lame ninja moves like they did in those stupid spy movies. He was just walking quietly. To the regular observer, he looked, at most, like some teenager aimlessly strolling around town. But he had a specific plan and destination in mind.

His long-term goal: take down Team Rocket. But in order to do that, he needed a team of pokémon that could defeat any opponent, that would strike fear in the hearts of his enemies, that would be unstoppable.

But first he needed to actually _get_ a pokémon to start out with. All the ones he would have any chance of catching on his own were too weak to be worth his time. He needed to start off with a pokémon with excellent potential, but one still fairly easy to acquire. He needed a powerful backbone for his band of monsters.

And he knew just where to find one.

OoOoOoOoO

A/N Hello Reader, and welcome to my story.

I'm trying to take the Heart Gold/Soul silver story where it's never gone before. I've read some very good ones in the past, but they were often one-shots (not that there's anything wrong with that). Or they had Lyra as the main character. Again, nothing wrong with that, but Gold/Ethan is so neglected.

Also, I've seen quite a few excellent fics about mute characters. But I've never seen one about a deaf one. I mean, muteness completely explains why the player character never talks, but plenty of deaf people don't talk either. And come on, who doesn't want to see a Deafie pokémon trainer kick some. . . well you get the idea.

I hope to see a review or two for this chapter. And yes, I know this is not very good. Downright bad, even. But at the very least, I hope to give good writers some ideas for their stories.

I'm a beginning writer, and am trying to improve, so reviews would be much appreciated. Not that I'm trying to pressure you or anything, but it would help a lot. This is the first non-crack story I've ever published. At any rate, I hope you enjoyed reading it.


	2. Light and Dark

Disclaimer: Pokémon. I don't own it.

A/N Greetings, fine people of the internet. Thanks to all the people who read, reviewed, etc. :) This chapter is longer than the previous one, and hopefully better. To all you Heart Gold/Soul Silver players, you'll probably recognize some of the dialogue. And for nostalgia's sake, I added a cameo appearance as well. But enough of my chatter. Let's get started!

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Chapter 2: Light and Dark

Gold was awoken early the next morning by an annoying flashing light. He growled. Normally, he hated getting up early, especially on Saturdays. But he didn't want to risk being late and having the Professor send someone else to get the egg in his place. He still had work to do in the lab, after all. So he had (reluctantly) set his clock to go off at six-twenty. Which it did, flashing the bright light directly in Gold's face. An effective alarm system, but really annoying. Stupid alarm clock with its stupid light going on and off in his face with stupid vindictive pleasure. He groped around for the snooze button for about ten seconds before he found it and smacked it, hard. Much better. He still had ten more minutes.

But then the alarm had to ruin it by going off again exactly nine minutes later. He growled again and turned it off, then gave it another smack for good measure. Who's bright idea was it to have clocks go off every _nine_ minutes anyway? But at least he had something to look forward to.

Just the thought of it brought a smile on his face. If his mom was willing to start letting him go out of town on his own, maybe, just maybe, she'd let him travel even farther. Or at the very least challenging the first Gym or two. That wasn't too much to ask, right? He'd even settle for just owning a pokémon and training it at home for the time being. But taking the entire Gym Challenge sounded a whole lot better. That would probably take quite a bit of convincing and negotiating on his part. A written list of Reasons Why Letting Him Set out On His Own Was a Good Idea wouldn't hurt either. But this was his mom, the mom who used to worry about him falling off playground swings, and to this day still told him to be careful around hot stoves. Still, he was going to be optimistic.

Gold swung his feet off the bed and quickly pulled on his shoes, ran a comb through his hair, put a jacket on, and grabbed his baseball cap. That was easy. He was glad he'd slept in his his regular clothes. _I really ought to do that more often._

He barreled down the stairs and took a flying leap five steps from the bottom. That was usually the most dangerous thing he did all day, and his mom had stopped running over every time she heard a thump in the morning. Though that was because, well, he did it every morning.

He went into the kitchen where his mother was already at the table, sipping a cup of tea. How she could stand the taste of tea, Gold had yet to figure out. Or how she could always wake up so early without being dead on her feet. Morning people.

"Oh, hi sweetie. You're finally awake!" she said/signed.

Finally? _ 'Hey, I'm up forty-five minutes earlier than usual. You should be congratulating me.'_

"Congratulations. Now get something to eat before you leave. I don't want you getting hungry halfway to Cherrygrove."

Gold didn't miss the flicker of anxiety in her eyes as she said that. He'd seen that look far too many times before. Suddenly, he felt guilty. He hated the times when she got like this, and he hated the fact that it was technically his fault.

But he didn't know what to do about it. He'd rot away if he stayed safe at home all the time. He'd lost count of all the times he felt completely _useless_ here. He couldn't really even help around the house much - whenever he tried to assist in cooking, he'd start to daydream and either burn something or add the wrong ingredients; helping in the garden always seemed to lead to allergy attacks; heck, he could barely vacuum the carpets without hitting the furniture. The most he could do was try to support his mom by giving the little money he got from his job to her. They weren't exactly what you would call well-off, after all. His mom worked as a private tutor for a number of the town's children, but this was a small place, and Gold had spent an inordinate amount of time in hospitals as a child, which certainly hadn't improved things financially.

Winning a little cash in trainer battles - and much more in Gym battles - would be a big help.

That endeavor would obviously require getting some pokémon. But first he had to actually be allowed. He couldn't get a trainer card without a parent's signed permission, and without a trainer card, he couldn't legally compete in Gym battles. He could still battle regular trainers, but not all of them wanted to wager anything, and if they did, it often wasn't very much. And as much as he sometimes wanted to, he would never leave without his mother's consent. He wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing what he would be putting her through if he just up and left.

Gold sighed as he poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the chair across from his mom. It was just so hard sometimes; the two of them never agreeing on anything. Occasionally, he wondered how much more he could take before going insane.

"So," his mother said, "when do you head out? Do you know the way?"

Gold was about to reply when a lamp sitting on the kitchen counter flashed on and off several times. Someone had rung the doorbell.

'_I'll_ _get_ _it_.' Gold had a feeling he knew who it was. Scratch that, he was positive.

But when he opened the door, no one was there. Gold furrowed his eyebrows. Maybe some loose pokémon had pressed the button . . . ? He was about to go back inside when what felt a bit like a furry water balloon hit him in the stomach. He would have fallen down had he not been still holding onto the door knob. He certainly got the wind knocked out of him, though. He quickly grabbed the water-balloon-thingy before it fell to the ground, and held it out at arm's length. It was Lyra's marill . . . and then he saw Lyra coming out of the bushes with a big grin on her face. Ha. So he had been right.

Gold dropped the marill and watched him run back to his owner. Marill jumped around Lyra's feet, then stopped and pointed at Gold.

"Marill!"

Lyra looked up at Gold. "What did he say?"

_'I don't know. He wasn't talking to me.'_

_I said, 'I found him!'_

_'He says he found me.' _

"Thanks for the information, Captain Obvious," Lyra addressed Marill, signing so Gold could see what she said. Marill just made a pouting face and placed his stubby arms on his . . . hips, maybe? He was spherical, so it was hard to tell.

"Hi, Mrs. Heart!" Lyra said suddenly, and waved to Gold's mom, who was standing right behind him. Gosh, what was it with everyone sneaking up on him today?

Mrs. Heart smiled warmly at her. "Good morning, Lyra. Gold, come inside and finish your breakfast." Gold huffed and walked back to the kitchen. Lyra and Marill followed him in without hesitation.

Lyra inviting herself into their house had been an almost daily occurrence for some time now. Not that she wasn't welcome by either one of them - she was Gold's best friend, and his mom had a soft spot in her heart for her as well. With her kind-hearted nature, bubbley personality, and sunny smile, Lyra was hard not to like.

She chatted with Mrs. Heart and asked her for her opinion on her outfit (a red shirt with blue overalls and a puffy white hat), while Gold poked at his soggy cereal. He should probably be leaving soon. . . .

"I like the blouse and the hat, but those overalls are awfully short - you wait right there, young man!"

Gold, who had been about to bolt from the kitchen, slumped back in his chair. He looked up at her expectantly, trying and failing not to show his impatience.

Mrs. Heart hesitated for a moment, and seemed about to say something, but then she just sighed and fished something out from her pocket.

"Here, I got your Pokégear back from the repair shop," she said, handing it over. Gold had broken it when he had knocked it off his nightstand, tried to pick it up, and managed to step on it instead. Mrs. Heart had not been happy.

Gold smiled sheepishly as he accepted the item and strapped it to his wrist. _'Thanks, Mom,'_ he said. He had missed playing around with the map application and texting Lyra when he was supposed to be asleep. _'I'd better go now before I'm late.'_

"Okay, have fun. But be safe! Don't stray from the trail, don't run all the way there and tire yourself out, and _especially_ don't -"

_'Thanks, 'bye!'_

He dashed out of the house, not even bothering (or perhaps forgetting) to close the door behind him. That just left Mrs. Heart, Lyra, and Marill. They stood there rather awkwardly for nearly a full minute until Lyra broke the silence.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine!"

"Of course he will." But Mrs. Heart's smile was strained at best, and she looked unsure.

OoOoOoOoO

As Silver walked into New Bark Town, he was surprised. He expected the place to be fairly small and town-like, but . . . damn. This was, well, _really_ small and town-like. The place had a lot of dirt paths and small, quaint houses. To be honest, pretty much everything here looked quaint, from the houses to the soft, springy turf, to the trees with their leaves fluttering in the breeze, to the multiple vegetable gardens. It was surrounded by woods that _should_ have given the place a darker feel, but it didn't. The town itself was just too bright and sunny and cheerful and flowery. All and all, it didn't look at all like a town that would have a laboratory.

But there it stood, in stark contrast with its woodsy smelling, annoyingly homey surroundings. The great New Bark Laboratory. He knew that it held pokémon that would be useful to him. He would have three choices, most likely. Chikorita, cyndaquil, and totodile. These 'starter pokémon' were always easy to raise and train, and they had to be - newbie trainers, in most cases, wouldn't be able to handle them if they weren't. Not that Silver would ever have that problem. He was here for a different reason - once fully evolved, those starters could be absolute powerhouses.

He slowly crept forward, hidden by the dense trees neighboring the lab. He stepped cautiously out from his hiding place and towards a side window, where hopefully, he would be able to see were the pokémon were kept.

Peering inside, he could see a lot of research equipment, loads of files, and seated on a cluttered desk, three pokéballs that probably contained what he came here for. He smirked. How convenient.

"So this is the famous Elm pokémon lab. . . ."

Suddenly, he heard someone's footsteps behind him. He whirled around, and was greeted by a pair of curious golden eyes.

OoOoOoOoO

_Freedom!_ thought Gold, as he ran to the lab. He had been afraid that his dear mother would stall him into oblivion. Or at least lateness. But it looked like he would even be a little early, and he was determined to keep it that way. It would be fun to dawdle on the way there, taking in the sights. Yeah, that would be fun. No, wait, he wouldn't do that. He would hurry there, get the egg quickly, and _then _dawdle. He'd probably have to go more slowly with the egg, anyway.

But, when he was just yards away from the lab, something red hovering near the left-side window caught his eye. He squinted. Was that some sort of pokémon . . . ?

He took a quick detour for a closer look. When he got nearer, he could see it was not a pokémon, but a girl, a few inches taller than he was, and probably a year or so older. She had wine-red hair that reached just past her shoulders, and was wearing dark, boyish-looking clothes. Gold took a moment to wonder who she was, and another moment to wonder why she would dress that way. Honestly, from the back, she looked like a dude with long hair. Then she turned swiftly around and -

Huh. What do you know. She _was_ a dude with long hair.

Her - er, his - silver eyes sparked with anger, and he shouted something at him. Gold was pretty sure the stranger said something like "What are you staring at?" He roughly shoved Gold away from him, nearly knocking him to the ground. With a disdainful look on his face, the guy went back to staring through the window. Gold sent a glare his way before deciding that the red-haired hippie wasn't worth his time. On most days, he would've retaliated in some way, but he had more important matters to attend to. Maybe he'd see Rude Guy later and pick a fight. . . .

He entered the lab and found, to his surprise and confusion, his morning chores already being finished by a boy he recognized as Professor Elm's nine-year-old son, Ben.

"Hiya Gold!" he yelled, waving to him and grinning broadly. Gold would normally be annoyed by someone yelling at him - seriously, it had absolutely no point, other than to make people stare - but this was Ben. He always shouted when he greeted someone. "Someone's coming to pick up their pokémon today, and Dad told me to get these three fed early 'n stuff, and to put them back in their pokéballs. Hope you don't mind."

Ah. That must have been why Rude Guy was here. Gold just smiled and nodded. _'Where's your dad?'_ he asked. That was probably the only signed sentence Ben knew.

"Um . . . oh, there he is," he said, pointing. Gold turned around to find the Professor walking towards him, clearly in a good mood - probably because he wasn't carrying anything.

"Good morning, Gold! Isn't the weather great? So very fresh," he said, then opened his arms wide, as if he could hug the air. Yep. He was definitely glad to be file, notepad, and phone-less. "You can choose the pokémon you want to take with you, if you want to start right away," he said, as they walked over to the three pokéballs situated on Elm's desk. "Just don't take the chikorita. He's being picked up by someone in an hour or so."

Hm. Rude Guy didn't seem like a chikorita kind of person, but whatever.

Gold contemplated his two choices. For a moment, he considered taking Totodile, but he preferred not to have his ankles chewed on if the pokémon decided to play. So that left Cyndaquil, if she agreed to go. She never struck him as the sort to want to go on anything resembling an adventure, but he could hope, right? He picked up the sphere and released her. She materialized in a flash of light and stared up at him. _What's up?_

_Hi Cyndaquil. I'm going on an errand and was wondering if you wanted to come._ Gold crossed his fingers. He wouldn't take her if she didn't want to go, but he didn't really want to be stuck with an ankle-eating reptile if he didn't have to.

Her face lit up. _Like an adventure? Yes, please!_ Well, that was surprising. Maybe she was the adventurous sort, after all.

"So you picked the fire-type, Cyndaquil! An excellent choice. Just be sure to keep her out at all times. Your mother will have my head if you don't."

_'Right.'_

_He does love to state the obvious, doesn't he?_ said Cyndaquil.

_What, about Mom having his head?_

_No, about me being a fire-type. And an excellent choice._ Cyndaquil looked very pleased with herself, as though she had said something very clever.

Gold wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he just turned to the Professor. _'I'll be going, then.'_

"Okay. I assume you know the way?" Gold nodded. "All right. See you in a few hours."

With one final friendly wave to the Professor, Gold walked out, Cyndaquil skipping along behind him.

OoOoOoOoO

Heaving a sigh of relief after that nosy kid left, Silver slumped against the building. He was fairly well hidden by the decorative bushes next to the lab, so long as he didn't stand up. He was safe for now. He'd just wait for the kid, that professor guy, and a couple of staff to leave, and then he'd make his move. He had been wondering how he would get in until he found out some idiot had left the window unlocked, providing easy access. It would still be risky, but it was well worth it.

Let it never be said that Silver Soul backed down from a little challenge.

He heard the front door open as someone - he was guessing the nosy kid - walked out. Listening carefully, he also heard some girl squealing about the 'super cute' pokémon the kid (apparently named Gold) had with him. He didn't hear a response, but from the gaps in the bushes he could see that Gold character head off towards Route 29. A moment later, the girl skipped away in the opposite direction.

Looking into the lab, Silver saw a laboratory aid enter the building. _Grr._ Then another. _Please leave._ And another. _Damn you._ He gritted his teeth in frustration. This could take a while.

And take a while it did. Silver managed to open the window when there seemed to be no one around, but just when he had done that, another lab aid (_more like lab rat,_ Silver thought) came into the main room and ruined his opportunity to get inside. Every time there was a chance to make it in, something to that effect happened. The sun was high in the sky by the time Silver had finally stopped hearing multiple footsteps, tapping keyboards, and rustling papers.

He took another peek through the window. No one was in the main part of the building anymore, and all was still. The coast was clear, at least for the time being. It was perfectly possible someone would come back in at the same moment Silver made his move, but this could be his only chance. It was now or never.

With catlike grace, he slid through the open window and into the lab. He walked up to the desk where two pokéballs sat (the kid had most likely taken the third), and grabbed the one closest to him. He just hoped it wasn't the grass-type. That one would work, but he disliked grass-types on context. But he didn't he didn't have time to see which one he had gotten. He needed to leave, and now.

He had just made it back to the window when he heard the slight creaking of door hinges.

Cursing silently, Silver hoisted himself up through the window and back outside, landing with far less grace than he had going in. But he had made it out unnoticed, and he'd gotten what he had come here for. All he needed to do now was wait for the surrounding area to be completely clear. He watched as a blue-haired girl walked into the lab, probably to get a pokémon. Well, it looked like she would only have one choice. Not that it was his problem.

Oh no. Silver's body was frozen in place as he listened to what was being said inside. _Please don't let them notice._

"Aw, it's so cute! Thanks for reserving this one for me, Professor Elm. I hope it wasn't too much trouble." _Great, now leave, kid._

"Oh, none at all. I always try to be sure the trainer gets the pokémon he or she wants. It helps with the bonding process, and avoids the possibility that the trainer would feel as though they had to 'make do' with a substitute. We certainly can't have that." _Maybe he won't notice until later._

"That's a great point, Professor. So, when were the other two picked up? I hope mine wasn't left alone for very long." _Oh no._

"Well actually, there's still one left right here - were'd it go?" _No!_

_Move, Silver, move!_

"Um, well, Crystal, you should probably being going now. I hate to cut this short, but, um, I have to make a phone call now. Besides, I'm sure your parents are eager to see your new partner!" The man's voice was shaking slightly.

"Oh, that's fine, but are you feeling all right? You look a little pale."

"I'm just fine, just fine! I just really have to make a phone call right away, yes! It's really rather important."

"Oh, sorry! I won't hold you you up any longer. 'Bye, Professor!"

Silver heard the soft footsteps of the girl as she left the building, and the heavier, frantic thuds of the man's shoes as he ran to his desk. There was a short silence.

"Hello? I need the police."

OoOoOoOoO

_So where are we going?_ asked Cyndaquil, as she and Gold made their way down the wooded trail at a light jog.

_We're going to someone's house to pick up an egg. Then I'm going to take it back to the Professor so he can examine it,_ Gold replied. He felt a surge of excitement, and added, _We have to travel several miles to get there, fend off wild pokémon along the way, and get the egg safely to the lab. It's a very important task._Gold hoped the wild pokémon were feeling active today - he couldn't wait to try his hand at battling. Cyndaquil would surely have a lot of fun, too.

_Wait, do I have to do any _battling_? Because I don't think I can battle. That's a bad idea. We could just run away from anything that moves. I don't want to battle!_ Suddenly, Cyndaquil looked ready to burst into tears.

Gold stopped in his tracks. She didn't want to battle? He hesitantly crouched down in front of the fire-type, wondering what to do. He looked all around. They had traveled about a half-mile by now, and probably had three to three or so miles to go before they reached Mr. Pokémon's house. He didn't want to waste time, and just standing here in a thickly wooded area wasn't the smartest idea, but he had to calm Cyndaquil down before they continued.

_Cyndaquil, if you don't want to battle, you don't have to._ He felt a familiar sting of disappointment at his own words, as the idea of getting to battle went down the drain. _But why don't you want to?_

She sniffed. _Well, I've never battled before, so . . . yeah. I'd be bad at it. I'd lose. And then you would be disappointed in me._ At this point, Cyndaquil looked ready to sink into the ground. She was already smooshing her face in it.

Was that it? That's what she was so upset about - about possibly losing a couple battles? _Hey, wait a minute. If you've never done it before, how do you know you would be bad? You could be great, for all you know._ He thought about what she had said after that. About him being disappointed in her.

_Cyndaquil, even if you found out that you were the worst battler in the world, I would still be proud of you, because you would have tried, and that's what matters the most. And besides, it'll be fun! Please, just give it a try._ Having exhausted his pathetically small (and really lame) pep-talk reservoir for the day, Gold waited for his partner's response. That took about two seconds.

_Well, okay. I'll try! _And just like that, she was back to her usual self, and for the first time, Gold felt grateful for Cyndaquil's mood-swings.

_Okay then, let's do this!_

So for the next two hours, the duo ran down the narrow trails, admired the scenery, and valiantly fought off any enemies they came across (but mostly just chased around several sentret and scared any nearby pidgey). Cyndaquil, much to her and Gold's delight, didn't lose any battles. They also passed through Cherrygrove City and made their way north, but not before some creepy old man gave Gold a pair of running shoes (the locals just looked on knowingly) and insisted on showing him around.

_I had no idea what that man was saying,_ Gold remarked, after they had gotten away and out of sight. _His beard covered almost his entire mouth. I think I saw him say 'shoes' at one point, though._

Cyndaquil, who was still in a good mood from the some-battling-but-mostly-chasing they had done earlier, cheerfully replied, _Don't feel bad, Gold. That's pretty much all I understood too. Ooh, look! Is that the place?_ she asked, looking towards a wooden house half-hidden by the trees.

_I think so. Come on, let's see who can get there first!_

_Hey, no fair!_ _Gold, wait for me!_

In the end, Gold just put Cyndaquil on his shoulder and gave her ride the rest of the way.

OoOoOoOoO

Mr. Pokémon looked at the clock. "I suppose he'll be arriving any minute now - Gold, I think his name was. Professor Elm called me when he sent him off, and that was a few hours ago." He turned to the man sitting across from him. "Anyway, thanks again for dropping by, Sam. It's good to know you're doing well. Oh, and how's the arthritis? You were stiff as a board last time I saw you."

Sam smiled. "I haven't had a single ache at all this year. Of course, with the summer humidity coming up, that's bound to change. But I'll enjoy the break while I can. Anyway -" he said, looking slyly up at Mr. Pokémon, "- got any threes?"

"Bah! That's the fourth time in a row you've guessed it right! I can't win in any sort of cards, can I?" Mr. Pokémon threw his hands up in mock despair. "That's it, I call the next game! We're playing chess this time, and it will end in your utter defeat! Professor Samuel Oak, prepare for the end!" He pointed dramatically at his friend before shuffling the cards together and putting them away. Most people who didn't know him would've thought he was beginning to lose his marbles. But all of his friends would beg to differ. According to them, he never had any in the first place.

Before he could get the chessboard off from the shelf, he heard someone knock.

"Ah, that must be him. Come on in, the door's open!"

Silence.

"I said COME IN." After several moments of no response, he walked to the door and opened it himself, muttering something about prank callers. The door swung open to reveal a somewhat impatient-looking teen with a cyndaquil on his shoulder. The kid looked slightly startled for a second at Mr. Pokémon's sudden appearance, but quickly straightened himself out and typed something on his Pokégear. He held it up.

**Are you Mr. Pokémon?**

Did the boy have some sort of throat problem, or was he just extremely socially awkward? He decided not to mention it. "Yes, that I am! You must be Gold." Nod. "Well, come right in, no need to be shy." He smiled in a friendly way, hoping to set the kid's nerves at rest. And maybe make him stop staring at him like he was trying to x-ray his head.

He went over to a viewing shelf where he had put the egg, and carefully picked it up and walked back to where Gold was standing. Sam was now introducing himself, while Gold was giving him a stare similar to the one he had bestowed on Mr. Pokémon just a minute ago.

"Oh! What's this? A rare pokémon! I heard Professor let you borrow it to help you get here." He scrutinized the cyndaquil for a moment. "Well, I must say, it seems to be quite attached to you already. You don't often see that these days, unfortunately. You know, you ought to consider taking the Gym Challenge. It might be just up your alley."

Gold had been listening politely to Oak's remarks, and when the Professor mentioned the Gym Challenge, the teen actually grinned for the first time. The cyndaquil didn't seem to be paying any attention to either human, and was rubbing its head on Gold's temple.

"Well, Gold m'boy, here it is," Mr. Pokémon announced. "A friend of mine from Ecruteak gave it to me. I bet you can't this kind of egg in Johto. I thought Professor Elm might be able to tell what this is. 'He's the best when it comes to the research of pokémon evolution.' That's a quote from my friend here," he said, gesturing to Professor Oak. "You are returning to Professor Elm right away, I presume? Before you go, let me give this to your pokémon." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an oran berry. "That should tide your little friend over until you get back."

The cyndaquil squealed and snatched the berry from his hand, while Gold stood there somewhat awkwardly before taking the egg Mr. Pokémon held out to him. After the cyndaquil finished the snack, Gold turned to leave. Professor Oak suddenly thought of something.

"Oh, Gold, wait there just a second," said Oak, reaching in his pocket like his friend had just done and pulling out an orange-red device. "I want you to take this with you.

When he looked up, he saw that Gold had completely ignored him and was still heading outside. Gee, was this kid really rude or just really hard of hearing?

. . . Oh.

Oak strode over to Gold before he could leave and tapped him on the shoulder. Gold turned around and looked at him questionably.

This was awkward.

"Um, I hope you don't mind me asking, Gold, but are you deaf?" That probably sounded rather rude and abrupt, but he had no idea what else to say.

Gold gave him a very brief _Are you an idiot?_ look, but didn't seem to be offended, and nodded casually.

That certainly explained the whole not responding to Mr. Pokémon's invitation to come in, the muteness, and the staring. "Oh, well, sorry for not noticing."

Odd, that sounded much better in his head.

"Anyway, I wanted you to have this." He handed him the device.

Gold took the item with the hand that was not cradling the egg, and his eyes lit up when he realized what it was. Oak waited until the boy looked up again before continuing.

"From the look on your face, I'm guessing you already know that this is the latest version of the Pokédex. I often give these to trainers I see potential in. You may not be a trainer right now, but I see a fighting spirit in you, and's that's not something I see every day."

Gold looked at the Professor gratefully and mouthed a 'thank you'. The cyndaquil perched on his shoulder, on the other hand, just stared at him boredly.

"You're most welcome. Now off you trot! You don't want to keep Professor Elm waiting."

After Gold had bounded out of the house, Mr. Pokémon released a sigh.

"Please tell me I'm not the only one feeling stupid right now."

OoOoOoOoO

_That was so funny! Did you see the looks on their faces? Does that happen to you all the time?_ They had just left the house, and Cyndaquil was in stitches, but Gold was too busy admiring his new Pokédex to really care.

_Well, it hasn't happened in a while, seeing as I almost never leave town. But I don't see what's so funny about it. It's just really awkward. A lot of times, people get all uncomfortable and then make up an excuse to leave. So their reactions were actually a nice change, but I would've thought the Professor would think to tell them. But anyway, just look what I got! Professor Oak doesn't give these things to just anyone, you know. I can't wait to show Mom and Lyra!_

_Yeah, yeah, whatever. You can put me down now. You never know when a challenger will appear, and it is my sworn duty to defend our precious cargo._

Gold laughed and placed her back on the ground. Our_ cargo? I'm the one carrying it._

_Well, I'm the one protecting it. Be happy!_

It wasn't long before they were in Cherrygrove again. The city, if you could really call it that, was small, so it didn't take long to pass through. The two were just heading back through Route 29 when Gold felt his Pokégear vibrate.

_Hang on a second, I got a text. _It was from Professor Elm, which was a little strange. Elm almost never texted him, except when he asked him to work overtime because an aid was out sick, or something similar to that. Gold wondered why the Professor couldn't just wait til he got back to the lab.

But when he read the messege, he felt his blood run cold.

_What is it?_ asked Cyndaquil. Gold was staring at the thing on his wrist as though it could explode at any moment. The tension emanating from her partner was almost palpable.

_I'm not sure. It's from the Professor. He says there's an emergency and wants us to get back as fast as we can. It looks really urgent._

Cyndaquil didn't hesitate for a moment. _Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go!_

_Right!_ And they were off and running back to New Bark, Gold trying to jar the egg as little as possible while still keeping a decent pace.

Unfortunately, Gold wasn't exactly an athlete, and was already wheezing five hundred feet later. He was wondering how long he could keep this up, when he felt someone slam into him, knocking him to the ground.

He hurriedly lurched to his feet and checked the egg for signs of damage. Luckily there were none. Gold looked up the stranger, and his eyes widened in recognition.

It was the red-haired boy from earlier. And from the look in his eyes, he was ready for a fight.

OoOoOoOoO

A/N And that's it for Chapter Two! I hope you liked reading it. I certainly had a lot of fun writing it. :) If you have any comments, suggestions, or questions, feel free to review or send me a PM, even if it's just something like 'kewl chapter,' or 'I'd like to see this happen . . .' or 'y u have cliffhanger.' Oh, and by the way, Reader, you look really great today. Yeah, I'm talking to YOU. :D Have a great day!


	3. Gold vs Silver

Disclaimer: I seriously don't own Pokémon.

A/N Hello again, and welcome back to another chapter of Soundless! To all the wonderful people who read, reviewed, and/or followed this story, thank you so much! Your support means a lot. Really, thank you. :)

Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy this chapter. Or lean forward. Or stand ramrod straight. Whatever's your style.

OoOoOoOoO

Chapter 3: Gold vs. Silver

When Silver had collided with the unknown passerby, his first emotion had been anger. Who did this guy think he was, not even looking where he was running? Okay, so Silver had been a bit careless as well, but at least he had a fair reason - running from the law required a good deal of concentration and focus. He glared at the stranger furiously. Which led to the next emotion - shock.

He remembered seeing this boy in New Bark. Gold. And judging by the look in his eyes, Gold remembered him too.

This was bad - once Gold learned of the stolen pokémon, he would most likely report Silver to the police.

Perfect, freaking perfect! But he had to keep a cool head. Maybe he should take out the brat's little pokémon that was with him, then go from there. He wasn't entirely sure what that would accomplish, but it sounded like a plan. Silver was always good at improvising, anyway - he'd think of something.

Now, what he intended to do was immediately send out his newly-acquired pokémon and get things over with. Instead, he blurted out the first words that came to his mind.

"You got a pokémon at the lab."

. . . Wow, was his brain-to-mouth filter malfunctioning or what? After a short and uncomfortable silence, during which the black-haired boy gave him an unimpressed look, he added, "What a waste. That's a pokémon that's too good for a wimp like you." There, that sounded better.

Gold just stared at him with a face that managed to say, _I have no idea what you are talking about,_ and _You're a stupid prick,_ at the same time. This kid had absolutely no manners.

"Don't you get what I'm saying?" There was a short pause. Gold's expression didn't change.

Silver scowled. _Fine, let's just get this over with. Get ready, you little punk._

"Well, I too have a good pokémon. I'll show you what I mean!"

OoOoOoOoO

Mrs. Heart was worried. Not that she didn't do that every day, but this time, she had a very legitimate reason. Her fourteen-year-old son had been gone for hours, with nothing but a small pokémon by his side. Professor Elm had come by shortly after Gold had left to reassure her that there wasn't a single powerful of aggressive wild pokémon anywhere near here, and that the cyndaquil would scare anything off with ease. She was already fairly well aware of that, and hearing it from the Professor himself was comforting, but her stomach was still in knots.

Lyra had offered to stay and keep her company, but Mrs. Heart had declined. The poor girl didn't need to watch her as she paced around the living room and chewed her fingernails. In her defense, she had tried to occupy herself with a couple of books, but her mind wouldn't stop wandering. She was beginning to seriously regret her decision - what kind of mother allowed her son to just go off into the wilderness? Really, how many people did that? Okay, maybe a lot. But still . . .

It was probably a good thing that a knock on the door temporarily distracted her.

"Oh Lilaaaaaaaa! Are you in there?"

Mrs. Heart suddenly wanted to pound her head on the wall. This was not her day at all. Nancy Johnson was perhaps the nosiest, snobbiest, most annoying neighbor in this town. She had the uncanny ability to get on absolutely anyone's nerves, and her favorite activity was giving people advice on how to raise their children. And she was knocking on her door. Mrs. Heart was very tempted to pretend she wasn't there, but her courteous side wouldn't allow it. She sighed in defeat.

"Come on in, Nancy."

And of course, she flounced right in. Hmph. Flounceasaurus. Without preamble, she made a bee-line towards the living room and sat down on the cream-colored couch. Nancy was always good at taking liberties in another person's house and making them too uncomfortable to protest. Yes, she was very good at that - almost as good as she was at talking.

"It's so good to see you again! How are you?" She didn't wait for an answer. "You know, you really ought to stain these floorboards a darker shade, they'd look so much better if you did. And get rid of this green rug! Ugh." She looked at the offending item with distaste. Lila almost felt bad for the rug. Now Nancy was probably going to criticize the coffee table situated on it.

"This coffee table, too." Ha. "It's so old. You should get something more modern. Oh, and sit down already! Don't be so stiff."

Lila had been standing near an arm of the couch (the one farthest from where Nancy was seated) during the lecture. She sat down reluctantly, already wishing her pompous neighbor would go away. Nancy had been in here for less than a minute, and was already overstaying her welcome.

Mrs. Heart managed a slight upward tug at the sides of her mouth that somewhat resembled a smile. It wasn't very convincing, but she gave herself an A for effort.

"So, Nancy, what brings you here? Not that you aren't completely welcome," (she felt a little bad for the lie) "but this is quite, um, unexpected. Is there any special reason you came?"

Mrs. Johnson's eyes sparkled - a bad sign. "Actually, there is." _Caution - Predator Mode activated._ "It just got me really curious. Well, I saw Gilroy running off to Route 29 with a pokémon following him, and I was so shocked -"

"Who?"

"Who what?"

"Who's Gilroy?"

Nancy looked at her as if she had gone mad. "Well, your son is the only Gilroy that I know of. . . ."

Face, meet palm.

"His name is Gold."

"Oh, that's right! Well, like I said, I saw him run off, and then I started thinking, 'What in the world was Lila thinking, giving him a pokémon and letting him just leave like that?' And then I thought, 'Oh my gosh, is he running away?' So I waited a while, and I guessed he hadn't run away, seeing as I never saw you go out to look for him, so you must have allowed him to go, and I've got to say - Lila, what in the _world_ were you thinking?!" She said this all very quickly.

This woman . . . "Well, Nancy, first of all, I did not _give_ him a pokémon. He borrowed it from Professor Elm. Second of all, he is not 'running off'. He's just going out for a little while - admittedly against my better judgement - on an errand for the Professor. That's all there is to it. It's not like he's going on a year-long journey."

Nancy seemed a bit affronted. "You don't need to be so snappy, you know. Most people would be touched by my concern. But don't worry," she said, as Lila opened her mouth to speak. "You don't need to apologize."

"I wasn't -"

"After all, I know it's very hard for you, raising a hearing-impaired child." Her voice had taken on a slightly patronizing tone. "And I'm guessing this is your way of trying to give him a little independence. But really? Sending him out into the wild? I thought you knew better than that."

Lila gritted her teeth. Trust Nancy to make her feel even more like a failure than before. But she'd try to defend herself. "I'm his mother. Don't you think I know what's best for him?"

Once again, Nancy looked like she'd been insulted. "There's no need to turn this into an argument, you know. Once in a while, you should actually listen to some reasonable advice."

Wait, _she_ was turning this into an argument? She hated arguments, especially with Nancy - the woman who always won them, anyway. But she was going to hold out for as long as she could. "And what reasonable advice is that? Keeping him chained at home his whole life?" She tried to ignore the voice in the back of her mind shouting, 'Hypocrite! Hypocrite!'

"Of course not! And calm down, will you? I just think you should make an effort to discourage his interest in anything pokémon-related. Encourage him to look into other activities more suited to a hearing-impaired person's capabilities -"

"Stop calling him hearing-impaired! And he's just as capable as anyone else." But by now, she was wishing Gold had never left home.

"Lila, calm down! Listen to what you're saying! Look, I know it's hard for you to accept, but there are things your son just shouldn't be doing. What if someone or something came up from behind him?"

Lila was beginning to feel sick. "Um, well, his pokémon could sort of be his ears for him -"

"Really?" Her voice turned sarcastic. "That isn't exactly what I would call a valid argument."

Why was she so good at making anyone feel stupid?

"You're acting like he's a trainer. He's on an errand. That's all."

"And when will that little errand turn into a few errands? Then a few more? When will he be spending more time out on his own than at home, where he's safe? That's how children are, honey. Once you give them a little leash, they'll keep wanting more." When Lila couldn't seem to think of any sort of retort, she added, "Though I suppose even _you_ wouldn't let him do something so reckless."

That last comment, spoken with such a condescending, almost disgusted tone, was the last straw.

Lila sprang up from the couch and glared down at Nancy, her eyes smoldering and her fists clenched. "And _what,_ exactly," she whispered dangerously, "gives you the right to tell me how to raise my child? Who gave you the idea that you know the first thing about mature decisions of any kind? Because frankly, I've never seen you make one!" Maybe she hadn't needed to say that, and maybe she could have been more tactful. But right now, she didn't give a . . . something she really shouldn't say.

By now, Nancy had also risen from her seat, and looked ready to slap her. "Are you suggesting that I know absolutely nothing about making decisions?" she spat.

"Maybe I am! You always talk about what other people should and shouldn't do, but you never seem to follow your own advice! Almost every time you open your mouth, it's to make some mean-spirited remark about how someone doesn't know how to run his of her own life. I'm sick and tired of it, and it's time somebody stood up to you, _Mrs. Johnson._"

If looks could kill, Lila would be nothing but a bloody, disemboweled corpse by now. "Mrs. Heart, you are taking this too far! All I do is remind you of your child's capabilities, and you act like I'm some sort of monster! You obviously have no idea what you're talking about, and no idea what you're doing. You are the worst friend - and the worst _parent_ - I have ever had the misfortune to meet!"

Lila had had enough. She walked up to neighbor until they were almost nose-to-nose, wishing she could just strangle her.

'Believe it or not," she said menacingly, "I know what _my own son_ can and cannot do. If I say he can be around pokémon without getting hurt, then he can. If I say that he can work in a laboratory and do as well as anyone else, then he can." Her voice was quickly rising in volume. "If I say he can run an errand by himself without getting into trouble, then he can. And if I say that he can be a pokémon trainer, an absolutely amazing one, then he _can!_"

By now, her cheeks were flushed, her hands were shaking, and she a strange desire to cry. But she was proud of herself. She had shown Mrs. Johnson a thing or two!

Nancy had actually backed up several steps during Lila's tirade, and her face was as red as a tomato. For what was probably the first time in her life, she was rendered speechless. So she just stood there, mouth hanging open, bearing a remarkable resemblance to a magikarp.

Lila, still seething, pointed in the direction of the door. "Get. Out."

With one last venomous glare, Mrs. Johnson stormed away, purposely knocking the coffee table askew on her way out. Several seconds later, Lila heard the door slam shut.

She sank back down into the couch, cradling her head in her hands._ What have I gotten myself into?_

Lila felt a little dazed. Did she really mean everything she had said? She had meant all those nasty things she had said about Nancy, that much was certain. But what about her words regarding Gold? She was convinced that they were true while she was saying them, but now . . . she just didn't know.

She'd seen her son interacting with pokémon before, and he had done fine. There was doubt in her mind that he worked well with them. If he wanted them to do something, he would usually just make some vague gesture - like pointing at something or waving his hand a bit - and the pokémon always seemed to know what he meant - as though they could read his mind. It was pretty amazing to watch.

Then she thought about all the things that could get him into trouble. Gold was smart, but he was also reckless, short-tempered, and seemed to take pleasure in picking fights with other kids (though he did have the sense to avoid adult confrontations). She'd lost track of all the times he had come home with a black eye, scraped knuckles, or skinned knees. She remembered the time about nine years go when Gold had gotten dozens of bruises after he had tried to slide down the banister - while standing on it. When he was thirteen, he'd actually broken two of his fingers after punching some sixteen-year-old 'slimy twerp' who had been bullying Lyra. Said slimy twerp had tackled him to the ground and ended up dislocating Gold's shoulder. Neither events were what you could exactly call freak incidences - things like that happened practically on a weekly basis.

It seemed that, no matter what she did, Gold attracted trouble, and lots of it.

No matter what she did.

Lila's head snapped up. Then she shook it, scolding herself for even considering . . . no, she'd never . . . absolutely the worst idea . . . but she couldn't just . . .

_Enough!_ She bolted upright in her seat and set her mouth in a firm line. This was it. She'd reached a decision. It was not an easy one, nor was she entirely happy making it, but she was responsible for her son's welfare, and sometimes hard decisions had to be made. Nothing was going to change her mind now.

OoOoOoOoO

Gold watched as Rude Guy struggled for a second to pull something out of his jacket pocket - the gloves he was wearing probably hindered him a bit. But it took just a second or two longer than it usually would. Rude Guy backed away several feet and held the object in front of himself. It was a pokéball, as Gold had a feeling it was going to be. He frowned. He would have been thrilled to be having his first ever trainer battle if he hadn't been on an important mission! Rude Guy was certainly living up to his nickname.

_Ooh, I wonder what's in the ball? Hey buddy, you dropped your trainer card!_

_Cyndaquil, stay focused! We might be in for quite a fight._

That was as far as their conversation went before the Rude Guy launched his pokéball. In a flash of light, the ball opened to reveal -

_Hiya Gold, hi Cyndaquil!_ Totodile waved at them, then turned around to face the red-head. _Hey, is this my new trainer? Haha, look at his hair!_

"Hey, turn around, stupid lizard. We've got a battle."

Totodile obeyed the stranger and twirled around to face the others._ He kind of rude, I think. But anyway, I guess I have to battle you guys. _He hopped in excitement._This is gonna be fun!_

_Yeah, I'm sure,_ Gold replied sarcastically. _Cyndaquil, you ready?_

_No! I mean yes!_

"Totodile, use Scratch!"

Totodile ran forward with surprising speed and slashed wildly at his opponent. Cyndaquil reeled back as the reptile's claws slashed across her face.

_Use Tackle!_ Cyndaquil jumped and bashed her head into Totodile's middle and sent him sprawling into the grass. _Tackle again!_

Totodile rolled out of the way just in time. He rose to his feet, panting. _Ow. . . ._

Without warning, he dashed towards Cyndaquil and Scratched her again. She curled up, trying to shield herself from what was now a barrage of Scratches. _Gold, a little help!_

_Fall back! And just keep dodging until I tell you stop._ Gold gritted his teeth as the two pokémon ran around in front of him. The fact that he couldn't hear Rude Guy's commands made things harder. But then again, neither the red-head nor Totodile could hear _him_, either. So maybe he had the advantage.

_Get down!_

Without question, the fire-type immediately dropped herself to the ground. Totodile, still running, tripped over her and landed on his face. He scrambled to his feet and hopped around in pain, now sporting a bloody nose. _Owowowow! _

Cyndaquil ran back to Gold and waited for her next orders. Gold looked at the stranger and saw him yelling something at Totodile, but he was too far away to tell what he was saying.

_Tackle him while he's distracted! And try to aim for the chin._ Hopefully, that would cause a fair amount of damage. This battle was going to be a short one - Cyndaquil, in addition to taking some hits in the fight, was most likely still tired from all the traveling. Totodile was also hurt, and flagging from his excessive jumping around and running after his faster opponent.

Totodile had now regained his composure and tried to attack again, but he had barely raised his claws before Cyndaquil rammed into his chin, hard. The lizard's head snapped back, and his eyes glazed over. He stumbled around for a moment, then collapsed on his back.

The battle was over.

Gold picked up the weary cyndaquil with the arm that wasn't holding the egg. _Great job, partner._

Cyndaquil heaved herself up on Gold's shoulder and slumped there. _Yeah. That was really scary. . . ._

The stranger returned his fainted pokémon with a nasty scowl. He walked up to Gold and leveled him with a glare. "Are you happy you won?"

Heck yeah. Gold felt a smirk grace his features.

Rude Guy was clearly not pleased with the 'reply'. "Do you want to know who I am?"

Not really.

"I'm going to be the world's greatest pokémon trainer." Could this dude get any more melodramatic? Meh, probably.

Rude guy brushed past him and stormed away. Cyndaquil stared at the ground.

_Hey look, he left his card here. Silly._

Gold stooped to pick it up. Then he grinned. _Just look at his picture! It looks like a mug shot. _He examined it further. _Aw, what the heck? Our names match._

_What do you mean? What's his name_?

_Silver._

_Ha! Gold and Silver! Poor you. Hey, heads up._

Gold looked up to find that Silver had returned. "Give that back!" He snatched the trainer card from Gold's hand, then shoved him back for the second time that day. Silver then ran - no, sprinted - away.

_Geesh, what a prick,_ Gold remarked, scowling. _Seriously, he acted like I stole it or something. But anyway, let's hurry back. We have about a mile left to go. _

_Aye aye, captain._

OoOoOoOoO

They were back at their starting point approximately fifteen minutes later (Gold really needed to work on his stamina). When they entered the lab, Gold saw Professor Elm slumped in a chair, looking drawn and haggard. Standing in front of him and talking was . . . a policeman? The young cop - probably no more than twenty-five years old - looked up as Gold approached them. The cop looked at him questionabley.

"Who are you? We are investigating the case -" But he was the only cop here. . . . "- of the missing pokémon here."

Wait, 'missing pokémon'?

The policeman held up a finger, seemingly about to say something important. "Rule number one! 'Whoever did it will come back to the site." At least, that's what Gold thought he said. This dude talked fast. But at least he enunciated nicely.

Then the man's jaw dropped, and he stared into space for a space for a moment. He then stared at Gold in shock. "Oh my . . . so you must be . . . the one who did it?

Elm rose from his seat and started to say something, but he just looked past Gold's shoulder in mild surprise. Lyra had come up from behind him, and gave the cop her best evil-eye.

"Hold on a second! He has nothing to do with it!" She was talking and signing very fast. "There was a red-haired boy - a pretty hot one, if I do say so myself - looking into the building!"

Wow, what kind of taste did Lyra have in guys anyway? But wait. . . . _'What pokémon was taken?'_ He asked Lyra, while the cop looked on in befuddlement.

"Totodile."

Dang it! He could have tried to stop him!_ 'I battled him just a little while ago!'_ he told the others.

Lyra's mouth hung slightly open, but she quickly composed herself and relayed the information to the adults.

"What? He battled a boy like that?" the cop asked Lyra, acting like Gold was no longer there.

"Yes. And when someone is talking to you, you're supposed to talk to him too, not whoever happens to be standing next to him. You're really rude."

"Uh, erm, sorry," the cop stuttered, or that's what it looked like he said. He tugged at his shirt collar. He was obviously not used to being told off by young teenage girls. He turned to Gold, clearly feeling very awkward. "Um, did you happen to get his name?"

_'Just his first name. Silver. And I saw him running down Route 29.'_ Lyra then interpreted for the cop, and the man nodded and wrote the information down in his notebook.

"Ah, well, that's certainly better than nothing. Thanks for, um, helping with the investigation." He then said something to the Professor, who nodded. Without further ado, the man left the building.

Elm ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "This is just terrible." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, probably trying to ward off a headache. "Oh, yes, you have the egg, I see. I'll take it off your hands now." Gold handed the egg over and the Professor briefly examined it, running his hands across the surface and scrutinizing its shell. "Well, I'll just put it in the incubator for now." He went through one of the doors marked Eggs.

"Really weird day, huh, Gold?" Lyra remarked.

_'You can say that again.'_

"Really weird day -"

_'Very funny,_ Gold said dryly. _'Oh yeah, guess what I got!'_

Elm came back to the main room just in time to see Gold show something to Lyra. Lyra had her hands clasped in excitement. Gold was was holding the object with his left hand while signing rapidly with his right. Cyndaquil, still sitting on Gold's shoulder, looked rather bored and vaguely annoyed.

Walking closer, Elm recognized the object. If his jaw wasn't firmly attatched to his face, it would have fallen to the floor by now. "What?" He stepped closer. "Professor Oak gave you a Pokédex!" It wasn't a question.

Lyra signed the message, and Gold replied with a grin.

Elm smiled broadly, forgetting about his troubles for a moment. "That's incredible! You know," he said, "Professor Oak is superb at seeing the potential of people as trainers." He grinned slyly. "That might be something you should to tell your mom. She'd probably want to know."

Lyra, who had been signing for Gold during this time, got the hint, and clapped in glee. "Yeah, Gold! You should really tell her. Right now. Text her or something! Now!"

_'Okay, okay, I'll run home and tell her, Miss Bossy.'_ He smirked slightly and made to leave the lab right before Lyra grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait, I thought of something. Don't move." Gold watched as Lyra faced the Professor, her back to him. She must have said something because Elm made some sort of reply. He couldn't really tell what he was saying except maybe something that looked like, 'That was the plan', and then, 'Okay'. He felt just the slightest bit frustrated at not knowing what was being discussed. Cyndaquil, on the other hand, was apparently very happy with what they were saying.

_Hey Gold, when Professor Elm asks you something - he's gonna ask a really big something! - can you please say yes? Pleeeeeeeease? You won't regret it! Pretty pretty beautiful amazing please?_

_I don't even know what they're saying, Cyndaquil. But fine!_ he said, before she could butt in. _I'll say yes._

_Yay! It'll be so cool!_

When Lyra and the Professor were both facing him again, Gold wondered if he ought to be excited or something. Apparently, Elm was going to ask him a question, and apparently, saying 'yes' would result in cool things. If Cyndaquil's words were anything to go by, that is.

Elm cut right to the chase. "I'm in a bit of a situation. Now that Chikorita has been taken in by a new trainer, and Totodile is missing, Cyndaquil won't have anyone to keep her company. Do you think you could keep her?"

Keep? Like keep keep? Why the heck was he even bothering to ask?_ 'Are you kidding me? Of course I'll keep her!'_ His mom actually agreeing to that posed a problem, but he'd find a solution to that later.

"Splendid! That's one less thing I have to worry about." Elm really did looked relieved.

"Hey, now our pokémon can play with each other!" said Lyra. "Oh, and just so you know, I sent your mom a text just a minute ago. I told her that you got a new - uh-oh. She sent a text back. "

_'You told her? Why did you do that? I was going to bring it up carefully and tactfully! What does the text say?'_

"Yes, I told her. Because I wanted to save you from more harm than necessary. I didn't know that. It says: 'Tell Gold to stay right where he is. We are going to have a very serious talk.'" Lyra cringed. "Sorry. But maybe all three of us can -"

The lab door swung open, and Mrs. Heart stormed in, eyes blazing. She spotted the trio (plus Cyndaquil) and marched towards them. Elm bravely stepped forward. "Mrs. Heart -"

"Don't. Say. A word," she hissed at the unfortunate Professor. "That goes for you too," she said to Lyra. "And YOU!" She pointed at Gold. He gulped (and so did Cyndaquil). This didn't look like it would end well.

"You go miles from home, through the woods, with _that_" (Cyndaquil looked miffed) "as your only company. You, most likely, purposely went searching something to battle on your way. And now," she said, and pointed at Elm, "he decides that giving you fire-breathing pokémon is a good idea."

_'Mom -'_

"I'm not finished yet." Mrs. Heart took several deep breaths. "After all that you did today, do you still _honestly_ want to be a trainer?"

Gold straightened his back and locked eyes with his mother. _'Yes. More than ever.'_

There was a tense pause. No one moved.

"Okay."

What?_ 'Wait, you're letting me?'_ This was inconceivable. He had to have misunderstood. There was just no way.

Lyra and the Professor looked just as surprised as he felt. Lila shook her head at three of them.

_I'll worry about you twenty-four hours a day. I'll wonder why I let you roam the country and tame wild pokémon that could kill you if they wanted to. I'll have nightmares of you being mugged, or kidnapped. I'll miss you so much that I'll cry every night, wishing you were home. But I'll let you go. I'll let you have an adventure of a lifetime. I'll let let you run free and chase your dreams and be the best person you can be, because I love you, and that's all the reason I need._

But she didn't say those things - they didn't have to be said, and, she thought with a smile, Gold would die of embarrassment if she did say them. So she only said: "Yes, I'm letting you. I don't know what I'm getting myself into, but I don't want to hold you back anymore. You can have the pokémon, and you can take that crazy Gym Challenge you're always talking about."

All three people (and Cyndaquil) stared at her in amazement, and Mrs. Heart almost laughed. She turned to Gold again and put on a stern countenance. "Now go pack before I change my mind!"

And so, forty-five minutes, eight hugs (five from Lyra, three from his mom), one handshake, and one wave goodbye later, Gold and Cyndaquil began their new adventure, striding away in dignity and disappearing into the sunset.

Okay, so it was more like dashing off back through Route 29 and trying to get to Cherrygrove before one 'o clock (in the afternoon) but hey, it was the thought that mattered.

_So, how does it feel, getting to travel all over and take on new challenges? _asked Gold.

_Well, so far, it feels pretty awesome - no, really awesome. You?_

_Same, same. I can't wait to challenge the Gym Leaders. Battling some wimpy-looking deaf kid who talks to his talented cyndaquil -_

_Why, thank you -_

_- with his thoughts. Yeah, somehow, I don't think any of the Leaders have actually done that before._

_Haha! Gold, you're so funny!_

OoOoOoOoO

Silver jogged along the dirt trail of Route 30, keeping a steady pace. After suffering a humiliating defeat to some random-ass little kid named Gold, he had wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp. And break that egg he had with him. But the punk's Cyndaquil was still alive and kicking, and he really didn't want to be set on fire. That and the fact that he had to get far away from New Bark Town as quickly as possible. He needed any investigators involved to lose any trace of him. Then, hopefully, the investigation would drop from 'new case' to 'cold case' in a short amount of time. That was the ideal situation, anyway.

He hoped that's what would happen, but would require actually getting a bit of good fortune. To bad he never seemed to have any. He'd gotten the pokémon he had initially wanted, but it's stupid jolly personality was toeing the line between 'obnoxious' and 'unbearable'. He was also fairly well away from the crime scene, but the chances that he had made a clean escape were practically nil. Who knew what other unfortunate events would come his way? _Arceus, what did I ever do to you?_

But he had no time to mull things over. He'd do that later. After getting safely away - and after whipping his idiotic dancing lizard into shape.

He really wished he's gotten the fire-type instead, seriously. But of course, that's not what happened. Gold just _had_ to pick the only good one, of course.

Thinking of Gold made his insides squirm. The entire time they'd been battling, the kid hadn't said a word. He'd just watched. The intensity in those eyes - it was unnerving. He hadn't made any sort of signal to his pokémon - it had done its job without instruction. It was just weird. A cyndaquil that young and weak shouldn't able to battle like that. Unless . . . well, that was technically a possibility.

Maybe the kid could read minds. That idea wasn't entirely ludicrous - Johto had a few clairvoyants here and there, including one of the Gym Leaders.

But again, he'd think about that later.

Whatever was going on, Silver had a strange feeling that that wasn't the last time he would be seeing the golden-eyed boy.

OoOoOoOoO

A/N Oh, Silver. Believe me, you will certainly be seeing Gold again. Anyway, how did you like the chapter? I know not a good deal of things happened, but hey, Gold finally gets to start his adventure! So really, what did you think? Seriously, I love getting feedback. Oh, and sorry for the shortness! This thing did not want to be written.

Anyway, I have a question for you. Yes, YOU. *points at you* How would like if I devoted some chapters to flashbacks of different characters? If you're interested in anyone's past and you want to read about it, comment below and let me know! C'mon, you know you want to. :D Or maybe you don't _want_ to into anyone's dark and mysterious past. Either way, feel free to tell me! I don't bite, I promise.

Whatever you choose to do, thank you once again for taking the time read this. Bye, y'all!


	4. Death and Dealings

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.

A/N Hey there, everyone! I meant to have this chapter up a week ago, but that obviously didn't happen. This thing was just so hard to write! D: I tried my best with it, but it may or may not be up to par. I was struggling over this thing for quite some time until I decided that this really was the best I could do. But I'm still a newbie, right? So please have mercy! Or chew me out. Whatever suits your fancy.

To everyone who has been keeping up with story (and reviewing and following it!), thank you so much! Every time I get a new review, or see all the hits I've gotten, I get all happy inside. :D

An anonymous reviewer asked me how Gold understood what people were saying. Well, for one thing, Gold is an apt lipreader, so he can usually catch what people say when they aren't signing. Also, if it's been stated that someone can sign, you can safely assume that they do that when they're talking to him. If they're only signing (not speaking aloud) to him, the text will be in italics. Hope that clears thing up for anyone who might have been confused.

**Warning:** This story is rated T for a reason. The first scene in this chapter, while _extremely_ mild compared to many other things I've read on this site, may disturb some readers. And trust me when I say that things _will _get more graphic as I get more into the story. Keep that in mind.

OoOoOoOoO

Chapter 4: Death and Dealings

The room was dark, the only brightness coming from a dim light bulb hanging from the ceiling, and silent, except for the painful sounds of harsh, ragged breathing. The place was cold, thanks to its underground location and concrete floor. It was also damp, and smelled strongly of rotting flesh.

In the center of the small room was a rickety wooden chair. In it sat a small woman, who appeared to be unconscious. Her hands were tied tightly to the chair arms, her filthy hair hung in clumps around her face, and her clothes were wet and sticky with blood. The quick rising and falling of her chest, and the raspy noises that accompanied it, were the only signs of life in her.

"You know," a quiet, slightly husky voice said, "you could make things _so _much easier if you would just give us the information we need. Your stubbornness will cost you greatly, my dear."

A tall man stepped forward into the light. He looked fairly young—in his early thirties at most—and was thin as a rail, but he carried an air of power and authority. He considered the captive before him, and smiled slightly.

"All you have to do is tell me where they are," he said. "Is that too much to ask?" His smile got wider. "If you choose not to tell me, make no mistake, you _will_ die. Whether or not you cooperate, we _will _locate them eventually. But, if you give us the information, you just might be free to go. What say you?"

Silence.

"I know you're awake, darling. I would appreciate an answer, if you please."

The woman didn't speak.

The man snarled. "Answer me!" He slapped her hard across the face.

For the first time, the woman raised her head and looked at him. Dirt, ash, and deep welts marred her face, and her eyes were extremely bloodshot. "My answer . . . has not changed," she answered quietly, still staring at the man with a slightly glazed-over expression. "There is no point . . . in keeping me here any longer, Proton. You may as well kill me." Her head drooped again.

Proton sneered. "You only say that because you believe you have nothing to lose. Let's see how long your resolution will last." He turned back towards the door. "Bring it in!"

Scuffling could be heard from just outside the room as three other men walked in, carrying a struggling pokémon. Its wings, feet, and beak were held still with strong cords, but the pokémon—a pidgeotto, judging from the coloration—put up a valiant fight regardless. The men tossed the pidgeotto to the hard floor, and left without a word. The woman stared at the bird for a second before she realized who it was.

"Cara!" she gasped, and for the first time, she looked frightened. She yanked desperately at the bonds holding her in place, but her strength quickly failed her, and her arms and legs went slack. She weakly lifted her head and looked at her partner. The pidgeotto whimpered and tried to move closer to the woman, but the cords held her in place.

Proton, with a sadistic smile, slowly pulled out a handgun from his jacket. Just as slowly, he pointed it at the flying-type's head. The woman's red-rimmed eyes widened.

"Don't hurt her!" she rasped.

"You don't have to worry about you little friend if you do as I say," Proton said coolly, the sickening smile still plastered on his face. "All you have to do is tell me where you sent the pokémon that rightfully belonged to Team Rocket. One tiny bit of information is all I ask for. You give me what I want, and your pet goes free. If you don't, well . . ." He chuckled darkly, "I think you can guess what comes next." Cara looked at her master, eyes wide and pleading. This elicited a dry sob from the human.

"Please . . . let her go . . . kill me instead. . . ." Her breathing was becoming more and more erratic as she begged. "You can hurt me." By now, her voice was but a whisper, and her eyes brimmed with tears. "But p-please don't hurt my pokémon."

Proton spat on the floor. He was scowling dangerously now. "How pathetic. Your fate, my friend, has already been decided. If you hadn't had the gall to rob us of some very valuable pokémon, ship them off, and then _refuse_ to tell us their location, you may have lived. But, due to your stubbornness, I promise you that you will _not_ live to see tomorrow. However!" He was smiling again. "Your bird still has a chance."

He crouched next to the pidgeotto and pressed the gun to the side of her head. Cara, beak still tied closed, made a muffled cry of desperation. Her dark eyes sent a clear message to her trainer: _Please!_

The woman was openly sobbing. "No! Please, let her go, I'm begging you! I'll do anything!"

Proton's smile only grew nastier as he watched his captive fall apart at the seams. "Anything? Somehow, I doubt that." His face turned angry again as he cocked the weapon and pressed it harder against Cara's temple. "You have one more chance to give me the information. Refuse, and I end your bird's life."

The pidgeotto's eyes spoke louder than words: _Please don't let him._

"Well?"

The woman took one last look into her partner's eyes. She saw the anguish there, the heartbreak, the desperate plea.

_Don't let him don't let him don't let him. . . ._

_Don't let him win._

The woman eyes overflowed with tears.

There was a pause. It only lasted for a few seconds, but to the room's occupants, it seemed to stretch on forever.

"I refuse."

Outside the room, other Rocket members heard an angry shout.

The sound of a gun going off.

Heart-wrenching cries.

Another gunshot.

Then nothing.

OoOoOoOoO

When Gold entered Cherrygrove's pokémon center, only a few other trainers were there, and they were all sitting on the couches and chairs in the main lobby. Well, good. He wasn't a big fan of crowded buildings.

He approached the front desk where a kindly-looking Nurse Joy greeted him with a smile.

"Hello, and welcome to our pokémon center!" she said, still smiling. "What can I do for you?"

He responded by placing Cyndaquil's pokéball on the desk. It was apparently the correct thing to do, for Nurse Joy took it without hesitation. She handed the ball to the chansey standing next to her, and the pink pokémon trotted away with it.

Nurse Joy turned back to him. Gold watched carefully as she spoke again. "I'll let you know when your pokémon is ready to be returned to you. Is there anything else you need?"

Gold eyes briefly swept around the counter for something to write on. Finding nothing, he typed his request on his pokégear and showed it to the Nurse.

**Could I reserve a room for the night? **Gold hoped that didn't seem weird. Trainers reserved rooms during the daytime, right?

Maybe they did, because the Nurse didn't give him a strange look or anything (but then again, she hadn't reacted to his silence, either). She simply handed him a card with the room's number on it and smiled again. "There you go! You could drop off your things," she said, gesturing to Gold's backpack, "before you head back out, if you want."

Gold hesitated for a moment before giving the sign for 'thank you'. He could have typed it out, but hey, he had a right to speak his own language if he wanted to. People had brains, they could figure out what he meant by context. With that thought in mind, he walked to the hallway before Nurse Joy had a chance to look at him weirdly.

There wasn't much to say about the room. It's main accessories were a bed, bathroom, TV, and videophone, though that was certainly more than enough. Gold nodded in satisfaction as he tossed his backpack on the bed and left the room. That was pretty easy. Now all he had to do was wait for Cyndaquil, then they could head out again.

He walked over to the main waiting area and took a seat on a vacant couch. He let himself zone out as he thought about his immediate plans.

He'd probably just do some training with Cyndaquil for a few hours today. Then, tomorrow, they would make their way to Violet City, home to the flying-type Gym Leader Falkner. Gold couldn't wait to feel the thrill of participating a real live Gym battle. It was going to be amazing, that was for sure. Well, unless Falkner kicked his butt. That would be very uncool, very uncool indeed.

Gold was awoken from his thoughts by a sudden movement on his right. Before he could turn to look, someone grabbed the front of his jacket and yank him forward. He then felt a fist collide with his jaw. The assaulter simultaneously released his grip on Gold, sending him crashing to the floor.

Someone had just punched him for no apparent reason.

Why . . . that miserable scumbag! Gold felt a rush of adrenalin flood his system as he jumped to his feet. He had already gone from 'shocked mode' to 'angry mode', but he backed up several steps to examine his situation—and hopefully make his head stop spinning. He assessed his attacker critically.

The guy who had punched him was an inch or so taller than Gold (thought that wasn't saying a whole lot), and had a very sturdy and powerful build. He was shouting something at him—what, he wasn't sure. He had probably been talking to him at thought he was being ignored—what an idiot.

The stranger stopped his yelling fit for a moment, and glared at Gold expectantly. Gold guessed he was supposed to either make some sort of verbal retort. Or walk away.

He went with neither. Stepping forward, Gold sent his best right hook at the other guy's head. The opponent jerked away hastily, but didn't escape without Gold's fist scraping along the front of his face and smashing into his nose. Gold could feel the crunch of bone as his hit connected.

The angry guy stumbled back and clutched his nose, which was now bleeding profusely. With what was probably a loud roar, he rushed towards Gold, but was stopped and held back by two other trainers grabbing his meaty arms. Gold's way was also blocked by some ten-year-old's arm held in front of his chest. Gold sent a vicious glare in the little kid's direction, which was enough to make him flinch back and remove himself from the scene.

The other guy was still struggling with the two brave souls who were still holding onto him. He stopped, though, when Nurse Joy walked up to them, looking not-so-joyful. Gold, the rude fight-initiator, the two other trainers, and a couple of other people who had been watching the fight all went still. Gold watched the Nurse carefully as she spoke up.

"Fighting is _not _allowed in this center, as I'm quite sure you're all aware of!" She shot a very scary look all around. "Who started this?"

Several people pointed at the muscly guy, and a few others pointed Gold's direction. Muscles turned to the Nurse and started ranting about something, but it was impossible to tell what he was saying from Gold's angle. Nurse Joy looked at Gold. "Is that true?"

Is _what _true? Gold rolled his eyes before pointing to his ear and shaking his head.

Joy's eyes widened in comprehension. She then turned to the other guy and shook her finger at him. She obviously said something, too, because the guy replied with, "But I didn't know!"

Everyone else started to shift around uncomfortably, all of them avoiding eye-contact with Gold. He suppressed a sigh of exasperation. He knew he would end up in an awkward scenario like this at one point or another, but he wished it hadn't been so _soon_.

He was beginning to really want out of here. But he still had to wait for his pokémon. He hoped she would be ready soon.

Luckily, the chansey from before bounded up to him, providing him with an opportunity to leave.

_Here you go! Cyndaquil is all healed and ready __to go__! _She held up Cyndaquil's pokéball, which sat on some tray-looking thingy. Gold snatched it up.

_Thank you. _

Instead of looking surprised, Chansey just did a little hop and answered with a _You're welcome!_

Well, that was new. All the other pokémon he'd ever encountered had at least expressed some slight surprise when he spoke to them. He wondered if all chansey's were like that. But Gold didn't didn't dwell on it for too long. He just wanted to get out of here.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out into the sun. He walked some distance away from the center before releasing Cyndaquil. She looked up at him with what appeared to be a smile on her face, but her expression quickly changed.

_What happened to your face?_

_What are you talking about—oh. _Gold gingerly touch the tender spot on his jaw. _How bad is it?_

She hesitated. _Well, it's not that noticeable, but it looks like it hurts._

_I've had worse. Anyway, how about we go look around the city before we go train?_

_Okay. So, what happened? _

_Nothing much._

_Cool. What happened?_

Cyndaquil clearly wasn't ready to drop the subject. Gold gave her a deadpan look. _I got in a fight with some guy. I would've won if nobody __had come__ to break it up._

His pokémon looked doubtful. _You really don't look like you could win a fight with, like, anyone._

_Gee, thanks a lot. _Gold turned his backwards-facing baseball cap around to shade his face. _Let's just go look around now. _He walked smartly away, and Cyndaquil scampered after him.

Cherrygrove really was a pleasant city. The streets were free of litter, the houses all looked nice and well-kept, and here and there, Gold would see some kids playing with their pokémon. It reminded him a little of New Bark Town, except that this place was bigger and didn't have quite as many trees.

North of them was Route 30, which would eventually lead them to Violet City. They would start the trek there early tomorrow morning. Gold would've gone today, but he'd already received a text from his mom telling him to stay in Cherrygrove until the next day, 'or else'.

Well, at least there was something he wanted to do first anyway.

On one side of the city was a small beach, which would make a nice place to train, so long as it wasn't too crowded. Besides that, he hadn't been to a beach in years.

Not really sure of the way to get there, Gold just followed the scent of the sea breeze coming from the west side of the city. And sure enough, after about ten minutes of walking, they were gazing at vast blue ocean, sparse beach grass, and soft sand.

Cyndaquil hopped around, kicking up sand as she went._ It's so pretty around here! _She paused and stuck her nose in the air._ And it smells really weird, but in a good way. Oh! Can you hear the water from here? It's so cool!_

Gold smiled, glad to see his pokémon so excited. _It sure is nice to look at, and the sea does smell good. As for the sound, I'll take your word for it._

_What? Oh, yeah, I forgot. S_uddenly, she apparently came up with an idea._ Hey, we should make a big pile of sand and jump in it!_

At that, Gold let out a laugh, probably out loud. _Sorry to break it to you, but jumping in a pile of sand __isn't the same thing as jumping in a pile of leaves. __Landing on sand would hurt._

_But it's soft! _Cyndaquil protested.

_Not when you fall on it. Besides, we're here to train. We can play with sand later._

Cyndaquil pouted. _Oh, fine then. So, what are we gonna do?_

Gold contemplated on that for a moment. How to start. . . . _I guess we can sort of warm up first. Let's start by jogging around until we get tired. _That seemed like a good plan to him.

Cyndaquil looked at him with somewhat doubtfully. _I've seen you jog. You get tired after, like, two steps._

_Excuse me? I'm just a bit out of practice, that's all. Two steps, give me a break—_

_Wait, you want a break already?_

Gold threw his hands up in the air. _Let's just get started already! __We'll just keep going until I collapse from exhaustion, okay?__ And after this, we're working on your firepower. _

_Well, if we just run until you drop, this should only take a few minutes. . . ._

OoOoOoOoO

"Okay Chikorita, use razor leaf!"

The grass-type sent forth a small flurry of sharp leaves, most of which hit their intended target—a small piece of driftwood they had found at the beach. Crystal smiled.

"You've already improved a lot, and on the first day, too!" She crouched down to rub his head. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?"

"Chikor!" the pokémon said, apparently in agreement. They had been traveling for several hours now, training as they went. Now they were practicing Chikorita's Razor Leaf along Cherrygrove's shoreline. They had made an impressive amount of progress so far, thanks to Chikorita's determination and Crystal's helpful guidance.

"You know," Crystal said thoughtfully, "we should really look around for someone to challenge." She rubbed Chikorita's head again. "Show them what we got, you know?" Her eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of other trainers. She didn't see any people, but she did see one—no, two—sets of footprints, one in the wet part of the sand, one in the dry. One was clearly made by a human, and the other by some sort of small pokémon. "Well, I guess it can't hurt to follow these. Let's go!"

The human's footprints, in the beginning, were well spaced, as though the person had been running, but they soon became much closer together, evidence that the person was tiring, or simply slowing down. The pokémon's prints, being in the dry sand, were much harder to distinguish.

After a bit, they came to a section of beach where some training had obviously happened. More footprints were here, going in all sorts of directions—probably the result of a running and/or dodging exercise. Where there had once been grass, only bits of burnt plant remained. Several pieces of driftwood were here, their surfaces charred and sooty.

But the place was abandoned.

Crystal placed her hands on her hips. "I guess they already left. Maybe they went a little farther away. . . ?" She was about to look elsewhere, but some black-and-yellow thing sitting on a nearby boulder caught her eye.

Walking closer, she realized that it was a baseball cap, probably belonging to the absent trainer. Crystal picked it up and looked around. Chikorita eyed her curiously. "Chikor?"

"I guess they forgot about their hat," she said in explanation, then put the hat back in it's former place "Let's just wait here for a little while and see if they come back. In the meantime, let's have a snack break." She grinned when Chikorita made a sound of enthusiasm. She sat down on the sand and got some food out from her backpack, with the intention to wait for the person to come back. She hoped they were ready to take a challenge.

An hour later, though, it was apparent that whoever left their cap here wasn't coming back. Crystal packed up her things, feeling slightly frustrated. She paused a moment before grabbing the stranger's hat and stuffing it in her backpack. She'd just take it to the pokémon center and leave it in the lost-and-found . . . place. Area. Thingy. Whatever it was called.

"Well, Chikorita, I guess we can just explore around Route 30 and see if we can't find some challengers. Maybe we'll catch a friend along the way."

By the time they checked in the pokémon center that night, they had fought and won several battles, checked out the local trainer's market, and snagged an energetic caterpie in Route 30. All in all, it was a fairly productive day. Crystal fell asleep quickly that night.

Her backpack sat on an armchair in the room. The baseball cap, still inside it, lay forgotten.

OoOoOoOoO

Gold huffed as he stared accusingly at the boulder that had previously held his cap. Yesterday, he had taken it off, the physical exertion he had gone through that afternoon making it uncomfortable to wear. He had failed to bring it with him after he and Cyndaquil returned to the center later on. When he had gone to look for it in the morning, it had vanished. Just his luck.

So now he had to wait until they reached a different city to get a new hat—Cherrygrove's trainer's market didn't have any black-and-yellow baseball caps in stock. Gold thought it was completely ridiculous—Cyndaquil thought Gold was completely ridiculous.

_You could just buy a differently colored hat, you know, _Cyndaquil informed him. They had gone back to the beach for one last search for the hat. They had given up after about ten minutes, and now Gold was having a staring contest with a rock.

_Well, maybe I don't _want_ to buy a different-colored hat, _he snapped. _Is that such a crime?_

Cyndaquil, her feelings hurt, promptly burst into tears. _I w-was just trying to h-help!_

Gold instantly felt guilty. He scooped up the fire-type in his arms and tried to make amends, mainly by apologizing several times and calling himself a heartless moron.

It took a few minutes, but Cyndaquil eventually calmed down enough to forgive him, and, as always, her unhappy mood didn't last long. Suddenly, she looked at him eagerly.

_Hey! We never played in the sand yesterday! Can we play now? _Then she got an 'I thought of something genius' look on her face._ We can make a sand pile!_

Again with the sand piles. . . .

_Fine, fine. But then we're gonna get out of here and head to Violet City. Understood?_

_Yup!_

Gold counted himself lucky when Cyndaquil quickly grew bored of making a sand pile, and, instead, tried to melt the sand with her newly-learned Ember attack (and, again, got bored after a bit). So they were on their way to Violet City before eight o' clock that morning, both in good spirits.

That didn't last long, however.

Gold started to get really annoyed again an hour later, for several reasons: he had received (and answered, mind you) nine texts—nine!—from his mom, asking if he was all right; Cyndaquil, while ready and willing to battle whenever they approached a wild pokémon, also insisted on trying out her Ember attack on anything that looked dry; and, most of all, there was . . . this kid.

'This kid' was probably around ten years old, and was wearing the stupidest pair of shorts Gold had ever seen. They were deep blue, and very, well, _short_—they looked kind of like brightly-colored underwear. But that wasn't the most annoying thing about him (though it was the creepiest).

The kid wouldn't. Stop. Talking. Gold had nearly stepped on the boy's rattata while jogging along a narrow trail, and the owner basically threw a fit. He had waved his arms around and yelled quite a lot—what he was saying, Gold couldn't tell. After about a minute, the kid put down his arms, looked affectionately at his purple rat—and started talking again. This time, it was slower and somewhat easier to understand. Gold wasn't sure, but he though he saw him say something about 'top percentage of rattata,' and also something about his shorts being 'comfy and easy to wear!'

Um, okay. Either he had entirely misinterpreted what had been said, or this kid was insane. There was no other explanation.

Maybe he should just walk away now. That's what his mom always told him to do when people were annoying him. Don't hit them, don't throw stuff at them, don't try to gauge out their eyes with sharp objects—just walk away. That was easy, right?

Of course not.

_Hey Gold? We're being followed. And he's still talking._

_Dammit! Why can't he just leave me alone?_

_I can Ember his face if you want—oh. I think he just challenged us to a battle._

Gold whirled around to find the kid standing about ten feet from him. He had his blue cap turned at a weird angle, and his feet were wide apart. He seemed to think he looked cool or something. He spoke again, more clearly this time. "I, Joey, challenge you to a battle!"

Didn't he already do that? This kid was so redundant. And annoying. And just plain _rude_.

Gold want to smack him. He'd already made it quite clear that he wanted to be left alone, and the kid _still_ had the audacity to challenge him.

_All right, let's get this over with. _He looked at Cyndaquil and pointed to the rattata. _Please maim the rat._

_Um, right._

There wasn't much to say about the battle. Joey kept having his rattata use Quick Attack, and Cyndaquil just Embered the thing whenever it got close. It was no exaggeration to say that the match lasted about thirty seconds—ending when Cyndaquil defeated her opponent with a quick Tackle. She jumped around happily, reveling in her victory . . . and the fact that she had burnt up almost all of the grass within a five-foot radius.

Joey returned his rattata to its pokéball. He stomped over to Gold and glared at him. "No fair! You didn't even tell your pokémon what to do!"

Gold raised an eyebrow and stared haughtily down at the younger boy. He _had_ been directing Cyndaquil during the battle, of course, but even if he hadn't, so what? It wasn't like it was illegal. Stupid, presumptuous kid. Who did he think he was?

His next words struck a nerve.

"You cheated!"

All right, that was it!

One second, the kid was throwing a tantrum in the middle of the clearing. The next second, he was pinned up against a tree by a very angry teenager. He visibly gulped, and held his hands up in surrender. "I mean, uh, 'darn it!' Who said anything about cheating? Not me!"

Gold just pressed him harder against the tree, nearly lifting the kid off the ground by his stupid yellow t-shirt.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! You didn't cheat, okay? I won't ever say that again! Please don't beat me up!" Joey was practically crying now. It was hard to understand what he was saying, but Gold got the gist of it.

For the second time that morning, he felt a stab of guilt, and his anger evaporated. He released his hold on the kid, who promptly slumped on the ground and covered his head, like he was about to be clobbered.

Great, now he felt even worse.

Sighing, he crouched down to the kid's level and waited until Joey looked up. Gold made a loose fist, put it to his chest, and traced a small circle.

_'Sorry.'_

Joey stared at him, obviously confused. "Um . . . can you talk?" he asked after a moment.

He shook his head, and the kid looked shocked. Gold rose from his crouching position while Joey just sat there, mouth hanging open. Gold smiled slightly before holding out his hand to help him up.

Joey grabbed his hand, and, misinterpreting Gold's intentions, shook it. Gold rolled his eyes, and before Joey could let go, hauled him to his feet.

And then Joey started talking again. Surprise, surprise.

"Sorry about calling you a cheater," he said. "I didn't know you couldn't talk. But I'm cool with that! Why, though? Do you have a sore throat or something? You should take some medicine for it. Or drink some water."

Gold felt proud of himself for resisting the urge to facepalm. Instead, he simply pointed to his ear and shook his head.

"Your ear hurts?"

. . . The heck?

After a minute of Joey trying and failing to figure it out, Gold just typed his explanation on his pokégear.

There was a pause, during which everyone just stared. Joey stared at the screen, Gold stared at Joey, and Cyndaquil stared at a nearby rock.

"But . . . how do know what I'm saying?" Joey's mouth dropped, and his eyes looked ready to pop out. "Can you read my mind?"

Cyndaquil regarded the youngster with undisguised disbelief. _Is he serious?_

_Apparently, __he's never heard of lipreading __before__. __Or he just isn't playing with a full deck, __if you know what I mean__. _

Gold didn't bother to make the kid guess anymore. He just used the pokégear again.

After reading the message, Joey looked positively amazed. "Cool!" He looked like he was about to embark on another talk-session, but Gold hurriedly typed something else down.

**You should take your rattata to the pokémon center now.**

"Oh yeah. . . . Um, well, see ya!"

Then he dashed off.

Gold let his head fall back until he was looking at the sky. It was a very nice shade of blue today, he observed. He let out a long breath. _That was exhausting. Let's keep going be__fore we run into any other creepy little kids._

Cyndaquil happily complied, eager to get moving again . . . and burn more foliage.

OoOoOoOoO

"Here's the key back, Nurse Joy," said Crystal, handing the card over. "Thanks for the room."

Joy smiled brightly as she took it. "You're very welcome!" she said with sincerity. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Um. . . ."

There was something, wasn't there? Crystal had the distinct feeling that there was, but she just couldn't remember. Something about . . . something. Yeah.

Nurse Joy waited patiently while Crystal sorted through her thoughts. "Um . . . there was definitely something I . . . oh yeah!"

She dug around in her bag for a second, then pulled out the hat that she had found yesterday. "I was wondering if you know who this belongs to?" she inquired, holding the cap out for inspection.

Joy examined it for a second. "Oh, yes! There was a trainer who checked in here yesterday. He was wearing that same hat, I think. He left this morning."

Crystal frowned. "Do you happen to know where he was headed?" She wasn't about to waste time tracking him down if she had no idea where to look, but if he was going to Violet City as she was planning to, maybe they'd cross paths.

Joy tapped her chin, her eyes looking upward in thought. "I think he mentioned something about going to Violet City."

"Well, good. So am I."

After getting some more information about him—what he looked like, his name, etc.—Crystal thanked the Nurse before heading out to Route 30, Chikorita falling in step with her. As far as identifying the boy, she didn't have a whole lot to go by. Black hair, pale complexion, about her height, really skinny. And his name was Gold.

She noticed that Chikorita seemed rather excited at the prospect of finding the mystery trainer. Why, she didn't know.

She supposed she could ask.

"Hey, Chikorita? Do you happen to, like, know the person I want to find?"

Chikorita nodded and made a sound of conformation.

"Wait, seriously? Are you sure?"

"Chikor!" he replied, and nodded again. He smiled brightly.

Interesting. "Is he a nice guy?" Nod. "Have you known him for a while?" Another nod. "Did you ever like hanging out with him?" Nod.

Crystal smiled. "Well, he sounds like he's easy to get along with, at any rate."

Miles ahead of her, a small flock of pidgey took off in startled haste.

_Darn it, Cyndaquil! If you're going to do target practice, aim for something that isn't alive!_

OoOoOoOoO

A/N So, how was this chapter? (Sorry for the shortness, btw.) Did you enjoy the scene with Joey? Did you enjoy the chapter as a whole? And before you ask; yes, Crystal will be a recurring character, and yes, Gold's first Gym battle will be in the next chapter (unless I do a flashback chapter before that).

Review? Pwease?


	5. Sages and Secrets

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.

A/N Uh, hey everybody. Miss me? :D Sorry about the long wait. Stuff's been happening around here, so . . . yeah. Anyway, how's everyone's 2013 going? You having FUN? No? Okay. . . .

This chapter . . . I felt cool writing it, and now I feel lame posting it. But believe me, I tried so hard to make this good! Enjoy?

OoOoOoOoO

Chapter 5: Sages and Secrets

When Gold and Cyndaquil _finally _made it to the outskirts of Violet City, neither did much more than sigh in relief. They were both too tired to celebrate more enthusiastically.

The initial part of their trek through the woods of Route 30 had started off on a high note. The trail was well-marked and fairly unobstructed, and the weather had been sunny and warm. The Route was full of wild pokémon itching for a fight, and Cyndaquil was only too happy to oblige them. The battles would sometimes last as little as twenty seconds before the challenger decided to scurry away, but other times, nearly ten minutes would pass before both sides collapsed in exhaustion. But no matter how long or intense, the battles were _exhilarating_.

But it didn't take long before complications arose. On the third day of the trip, Gold woke up with a bad headache, sore throat, and stuffy nose. For the next two weeks, he was tired, achy, and ill-tempered. Their pace slowed way down because of that—Gold's constant headache and incessant coughing and sneezing made him want to fall down where he was and go to sleep. He settled, however, with simply walking slowly during the day and setting up camp earlier at night. Cyndaquil didn't fare so well either; she was both impatient with the slow pace, and tired from lack of sleep. (She claimed Gold's sniffling kept her up at night.)

There was also the issue of battles becoming more and more frequent the farther they went. At first it was exciting, and Gold was glad about all the training they were getting in, but it eventually became draining. There were several instances where Gold simply picked up his partner and ran away as fast as his worn-out legs would carry him—which, in his state, was about five miles per hour (or so he estimated).

So when they at last made it Violet City, neither bothered to explore the place or point out anything interesting to each other. They simply went to the pokémon center and got a room for the night.

_Okay, _Gold began, as they both sat down against the wall of their room, _here's the plan for tomorrow. We sleep in._

_That's a very good plan._

_It is, isn't it? After that, though, we can go train at Sprout Tower—I'll tell you more about that later—then take on the Gym Leader sometime tomorrow night. Got that?_

_Mmhm. _She hadn't actually been listening all that much.

_Care to repeat tomorrow's plan? _Gold challenged.

_We sleep in. And then we go to somewhere that you'll tell me about later, and then there's a Gym, and then there's night._

Cyndaquil heard Gold give an amused sort of cough. _Close enough. __Anyway, I'm gonna get ready for bed. _He sighed contently. _I'll _finally _get__ to take a shower._

_Yeah, go have fun getting soaked. I'll be on the bed, doing something constructive._

_Sleeping. _It wasn't a question.

_Yeah!_

Gold shrugged. _All right then. Do you want me to lift you up, or can you climb?_

_Well, I _can _climb. But I'm really tired. . . . _

_Okay, okay. I can take a hint. _Gold picked her up and placed her on the bed. He waited there for a moment, then crossed his arms. _Well?_ _What do you say?_

_This bed is comfy!_

Gold raised an eyebrow, but couldn't quite keep the smirk off his face. _Very funny. I'm still waiting. _

Cyndaquil sighed dramatically before remembering that Gold wouldn't be able to hear it. _Thank you._

_You're welcome. __Don't set anything on fire._

_I won't._

Cyndaquil curled up on the foot of the bed as she waited for Gold to take a shower and change his clothes. She wondered about humans sometimes—Gold had actually seemed _eager _to get himself wet. Outside rain did that well enough, and Gold never seemed to enjoy that. What was so special about _inside _rain? People—she'd never understand them.

About a quarter of an hour later, she heard the patter of the water abruptly stop. A minute after that, she could hear odd scraping sounds coming from the direction of the—what was it called?—ah yes, the bathroom. (Why did they call it that, anyway? It had lots more than just a bath in it.)

She hopped off the bed and peered through the barely open door. Gold was standing in front of the mirror with some sort white thing wrapped around his waist. (Cyndaquil later remembered that the white thing was called a towel.) He seemed to be holding some sort of stick in his mouth and rubbing it vigorously across his teeth. Cyndaquil would have to ask him about that later. For now, she contented herself with examining the strange appearance of her human. (That sounded weirder than she had intended.)

Gold, she decided, looked kind of odd, even for human standards. His face looked pretty normal, even with the slightly blue-tinged skin beneath his eyes and the almost-but-not-quite condescending expression that seemed to be with him at all times. His hair also looked typical for his species. The rest of him, however, told a different story.

Now, Cyndaquil knew next to nothing about the human body, but she had a feeling something was off about this example. Down the center of Gold's back and the base of his neck was a row of just-visible lumps, indicating where his spine was. His ribs were more easily seen, and Cyndaquil knew she could count them if she wanted to. His arms reminded her a bit of flesh-colored sticks, and his elbows were bigger around than his biceps. She wondered if Gold was a runt of some sort. Whatever the reason, he looked kind of icky. She would have to make sure to remind him to eat more regularly.

Her trainer's sad excuse for a physique wasn't what intrigued her the most, though. It was the battered state of his skin.

Long horizontal lines were scattered all across his back, mostly on the lower half. Most of them were a dull reddish-pink, some looked kind of gray, while others were nearly white in color. It looked as though someone, a long time ago, had taken something sharp and raked it across his back dozens of times. Some of them didn't look so much like cuts as they did . . . splatters. Perhaps the sliced skin had gotten infected at some point and sort of spread around. Such was her hypothesis. (She'd heard that word from Professor Elm.)

His left arm and side were just as nasty. They looked kind of . . . chewed up. Generous amounts of scar tissue marred the vast majority of his arm, and covered a good deal of his left ribs and hip as well. Cyndaquil wondered if that was what someone would look like if they had gotten cut up by one of those chainsaw thingies. She couldn't see much of his front from where she was standing, but it wouldn't surprise her if he had been wounded there as well.

_Gold?_

Her trainer nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise and whirled around to face her. _Geez, Cyndaquil, don't sneak up on me like that! You almost gave me a heart attack. __Why aren't you asleep?_

Cyndaquil ignored the question. _Sorry. Where did you get all those scars from?_

Gold bent over the sink and rinsed out his mouth before turning back to her with a big smile plastered on his face. (Cyndaquil noted that there was indeed scarring on his chest and stomach as well.) _I've had an incredibly exciting and dangerous past, my dear trainee. These are my battle-scars, earned through a number of daring adventures and courageous acts of heroism._

Cyndaquil glared at him. _Liar._

Gold smirked and rolled his eyes. _Okay, fine. A long time ago, I did some really stupid things that __didn't end well for me__. Happy?_

_Not really. And you need to eat more._

_Yes, Mother. _

_Meanie._

_Stalker._

_Hmph. __I'm going __back__ to bed. Goodnight. _Cyndaquil held up her nose and walked out in a dignified manner. She wanted to interrogate him more, but something told her that perhaps she was treading in dangerous waters. She'd let the matter rest for now.

Cyndaquil climbed back on the bed and snuggled into the comforter. She couldn't help but wonder; if Gold had gotten into so much trouble before he had even ever gone on a journey, how much would the both of them get into now that they had?

OoOoOoOoO

At precisely ten o' clock the next morning, Gold and Cyndaquil stood looking up at the formidable building that was Sprout Tower.

Sprout Tower was the oldest building in Violet City, and was home to a population of monks (or sages, as they were often called), all dedicated not only to teaching and preaching to people about coexisting peacefully with one another, but also to the care and training of bellsprout, for which the tower was named. The tower was held erect by a giant, swaying beam in it center, which ran all the way up to the roof. It was said that the beam was once a mighty hundred-foot bellsprout, which was actually quite an understandable supposition. The beam's flexibility was incredible; once in a small while, Violet City was ravaged by earthquakes, and while other buildings would crumble and fall, Sprout Tower would sway back and forth with the grace of a skilled dancer—bending, but never breaking. Swaying, but never yielding.

_So, are we going in or what? _Cyndaquil asked impatiently.

_Darn it! You just disrupted my philosophical musings! _Gold replied, slightly aggravated. _But yeah, we're going in. Just let me get out of my deep-thinking funk._

After about three more seconds of staring, the duo walked in.

The inside of the tower was much like the outside in some ways. For one, it was made entirely of wood. It also had the same sort of ancient, historical feel to it. But, unlike the exterior, with its imposing yet almost inviting majesty, the inside had a somber and desolate atmosphere. The only lighting came from the filtered sunlight coming through the screened windows. Candles lined the walls, but none of them were lit.

_Well, this looks homey, _Gold remarked as he looked at his not-so-homey surroundings. His eyes roved around until they stopped several feet in front of him, where two bellsprout statues, both intricately carved out of wood, stood. The statues' heads were bent in identical meditative poses, and they seemed to be gazing solemnly at him. Suddenly, all thought of making any more sarcastic comments died within him.

_So . . . what are we doing here again? _Cyndaquil seemed to have honestly forgotten.

_We're going to the top floor to battle Elder Li. They say that if you win, he'll give away a special prize. Also, he might have some good advice for us. He's a well-respected . . . advice-giver._

_If you say so. . . ._

They explored around the bottom floor for a few minutes, though there wasn't a whole lot to see. Wooden floors, wooden walls, wooden ceiling, wooden statues. The windows didn't even have glass, and were instead covered in yellowish paper, preventing anyone from seeing either in or out.

The first floor having been covered, they walked over to a tall ladder leading up.

Gold reached down to pick up Cyndaquil and place her on his shoulder. _Hold on tight._

Cyndaquil didn't complain as they ascended the ladder, though she did keep a very tight hold on Gold's jacket the entire time. _If we fall and die, I'm gonna kill you. Just so you know._

_Relax. This ladder is really sturdy. It won't break._

_It's not the ladder I'm worried about. . . ._

Fortunately, contrary to Cyndaquil's beliefs, Gold did _not _fall off and kill them both.

The next several floors were all pretty much the same as the first, so they didn't dawdle. They _did_, however, get to battle some of the sages living there. They all used the same pokémon—bellsprout. Cyndaquil quickly dispatched of the grass-types, and the sages, true to their nature, took their losses calmly and graciously. Never once did then mention Gold's lack of speech, and for that he was grateful.

As they climb the final ladder, Gold spoke to Cyndaquil. _Okay, since this is Elder Li we're talking about, I want to be able to understand everything he says. I'm going to have to ask you to translate for me._

_Um, b__ut can't you, like, __lipread__ or __whatever__?_

_It's not an exact science. A lot of the time, I can get about a third or more of it, and fill in the blanks from there. Sometimes though, I don't know what they're saying at all. So yeah. I want to know exactly what he says without worrying about getting something wrong. Okay? _

_Okay._

When they reached the top floor, Gold immediately saw that something was amiss. There were three sages here, and they were all kneeling soberly next to their defeated bellsprout, slowly spraying them with potions. Gold soon spotted what had to be Elder Li. He was very old, and completely bald, if you didn't count his bushy white mustache and eyebrows. He, like the rest of the sages here, wore long robes, though they were purple and yellow instead of gray.

He was standing at the far end of the room, talking to a hooded figure. Gold couldn't make out what the Elder was saying from here, but his face looked . . . sad? Disappointed? It was hard to tell.

The hooded figure chose that moment to whirl around and stalk out of the building. He quickly brushed past Gold and climbed down the ladder, disappearing from sight. As he passed by, Gold thought he saw a flash of red hair.

Gold turned back around and looked around at the somber gathering. _Be ready to translate, Cyndaquil._

_I know._

He hesitantly walked towards the Elder, and the sages made no move to approach him. They simply gazed wordlessly at him as he went past them.

_It's so . . . silent here. It feels weird._

_In that case, I'm glad _everything's_ silent for me. This place feels weird enough as it is. _

They reached Elder Li, who bowed slightly in welcome. Gold, feeling extremely awkward, thought that maybe he should bow as well. So he did, and the Elder looked at him in approval.

"So good of you to come here," he said, as Cyndaquil quickly translated. "Sprout Tower . . . is a place of training. People and pokémon test their bonds to build a bright future together." He stopped for several seconds as his thoughts appeared to turn inwards. "I am the final test." He paused again, and simply looked at Gold for several moments. Gold felt uncomfortable under the Elder's scrutiny, but kept his face carefully blank.

"Allow me to check the ties between you and your pokémon."

With that said, Elder Li held up a pokéball and pressed the button in the middle, releasing his first pokémon—a hoothoot, to Gold's surprise. He had assumed that only bellsprout were trained here. Obviously, he was wrong.

_Okay Cyndaquil, get ready to Quick Attack it whenever it comes close. Use Ember when it's far away. _Gold remembered reading about hoothoot and their ability to hypnotize their opponents. _Try to avoid eye-contact._

Cyndaquil fired an Ember at Hoothoot, who quickly flew out of the way. Its tiny wings didn't seem to impede its ability to dodge. It flew downwards for a Peck, and Cyndaquil responded with a Quick Attack, knocking it out of the air. As soon as it landed, Gold ordered another Quick Attack. Hoothoot tried to fly out of the way, but Quick Attack was known for being, well, quick. Hoothoot was knocked down again.

_I'll let you take it from here._

Cyndaquil looked at him in slight horror, but pulled herself together and aimed an Ember at the owl pokémon. Hoothoot flew out of the flames, its tail on fire, but managed to zoom over to Cyndaquil and finally land a Peck. Cyndaquil countered with a Tackle, knocking the hoothoot down. It didn't get up again.

"Well played, young trainer. But it is not over just yet." He drew out another pokéball, actually releasing a bellsprout this time.

After practicing with all the other bellsprout on the lower floors, Gold and Cyndaquil both knew about their surprising knack for dodging. The first few times caught them unawares, but they were prepared this time.

_Ember, wide range!_

Cyndaquil released a large spew of flames, not as powerful as a more concentrated stream, but much harder to get away from. Elder Li seemed to realize this. Bellsprout, instead of trying to get away, lashed out hard with a Vine Whip. Cyndaquil recoiled in pain, but her fire-typing prevented her from taking serious damage. Gold ordered a more powerful Ember while they had the chance, and Bellsprout went down.

Elder Li released another bellspout (Gold suddenly wondered how many he had), and the battle continued.

This bellsprout was much the same as the other one, but a little stronger and a little harder to hit. But it was still just a bellsprout, and Cyndaquil snagged another victory without a great deal of trouble.

The Elder returned what was apparently his final pokémon. Then he smiled.

Cyndaquil was skipping around in delight. _I won! Gold, did you see me?_

_No. I had my back turned the whole time._

_You're mean._

_I know._

Elder Li approached Gold, looking pleased. "The way you battle is quite elegant." He considered Gold for a moment. "You should be able to stand up to Falkner." He then pulled a disk from a pocket in his robes and handed it to him. "And you should be able to make use of this."

Gold looked at the disk in his hand.

TM 70 Flash

Elder Li explained the use of the move, and Gold nodded occasionally to show that he was 'listening.'

"I have seen the bond you and your partner share, and it is good. Good things will come of it. Perhaps great things." Then he looked somber.

"But do not forget about your morals. Even the greatest and most selfless of men can fall, if they allow themselves to. I have seen it happen . . . far too many times.

"I see love and compassion in your heart, young man. Do not allow yourself to lose that. Hatred, greed, scorn, lack of mercy—these will all lead to great sorrow and suffering. Every spiteful or selfish act—whether by your hand or others—will bring just a little more darkness to the world. In the same way, every act of kindness, every helping hand offered, every sorrow borne patiently, every evil repented for and forgiven—these will shed light. Remember that."

OoOoOoOoO

_So, I guess this is the place._

_Yep. _

_And we're gonna beat up some birds._

_That's the idea._

Gold and Cyndaquil were in much the same position tonight as they were in the morning. Standing still, looking at a big building. Both wanting to go in, but stalling for as long as possible.

But they couldn't stand there forever—they had to go in and battle. No battle, no badge.

Gold took a deep breath and walked through the automatic sliding doors.

Having never been in a Gym before, Gold didn't know what to expect it to look like on the inside. He certainly hadn't expected this.

The Gym, much like Sprout Tower, had a lot of wood in it. The walls were covered in smooth, glossy wood, and the ceiling (which was _seriously_ high up) was supported by massive wooden beams. Groups of spearow and pidgey were flying amongst the high rafters, making a huge racket (according to Cyndaquil). Gold didn't see a battlefield on the concrete floor, and there was a large platform built up there, so that must mean . . .

_I guess the arena is somewhere near the ceiling, _Gold observed, tilting his head thoughtfully.

Cyndaquill looked nervous. _So does that mean we have to climb that ladder?_

A long rope ladder hung from a large beam, which led to the main platform. The ladder practically screamed; _Climb on up! But don't blame me if I snap._

Gold put his hands on his hips and let out a breath through his nose. _I guess so. I'll put you back in your pok__é__ball until we're all the way up, though. When I let you out again, try to look cool and confidant, okay?_

_Sure thing. I'll look them right in the eye and _dare _them to underestimate my power._

_You do that._

OoOoOoOoO

Falkner was bored.

While he wouldn't deny that he got bored easily anyway, the past few weeks had been slow. Scratch that, the past few _months_. Really slow. With the exception of some emo punk with a Croconaw and a Gastly who had snagged a victory this morning, pretty much every other challenger today (and yesterday, and the day before that, and so on) had gone down easily. It was like they just got their pokémon yesterday, then waltzed in here. Falkner didn't doubt that some of them had.

Falkner had been doing some boring paperwork in his office (which, incidentally, was also an attic) for most of the day, emerging every once in a while whenever his beeper went off, signaling that someone had just entered the Gym. Every challenger he'd battled (again, excluding Sir Emo) had lost fairly quickly.

Falkner idly wondered if it was possible to die of boredom. Stagnate to death. Vegetate until he withered.

His beeper went off again. Falkner hopped out of his chair and went to the door, hoping to find someone who actually had the brains to _prepare _and _train _beforehand.

He opened up the door (which being in an attic, was on the floor) and climbed down one of the rafters. Falkner bet that he had one of the coolest offices out of all the Gym Leaders'. If things didn't pick up around here soon, he'd have to see about organizing a Coolest Office Contest. Then again, he'd probably win, so it wouldn't be as interesting.

He waited patiently (sort of) for the challenger to come up. A few minutes later, a young teen scrambled up on the landing, looked around briefly, and made his way across the beam towards him.

He studied his soon-to-be opponent with a practiced eye. This could be interesting—maybe.

The kid walked along the wooden beam with surprising nonchalance—he was walking briskly, but not hastily, and he had his hands in his pockets. While the beam was plenty wide—about five feet—Falkner had seen his fair share of kids who quite literally crawled their way to the battlefield (despite the fact that there was a safety net). It was almost sad to see that this kid didn't seem to have any fear of heights. Honestly, the acrophobic ones were just too fun to watch.

. . . That sounded a little mean, even in his head.

He soon arrived at the platform and looked at Falkner expectantly.

Falkner cleared his throat, drew himself in a more upright position, and gave the boy his best 'I'm going to beat you in thirty seconds flat because I'm that much cooler than you' smirk. The kid seemed unaffected, and simply smiled and gave a short wave (that looked a bit like a salute) in greeting.

Well, at least he had some manners. Or else he was just mocking him. He'd better not be. Falkner hated rude kids.

"Hello, young trainer. My name is Falkner and I—aw, screw it. You are well aware of my identity. If you weren't, you wouldn't be here, now would you? Or if you didn't know who I was and came here anyway, someone would have kicked you out by now. Sorry," he added, after seeing the kid's slightly confused face, "I'm no good with formalities. Usually, Gym Leaders have some sort of welcoming speech thingy that they say to their new challengers. But, like I said, formalities aren't my thing."

The kid stared at him for a moment, looking a little lost, and then simply pulled out a pokéball, releasing a cyndaquil. The cyndaquil studied its surroundings, then turned and gave Falkner what was honestly a really creepy stare. It then turned back to its trainer and he gave it a half scolding, half amused gaze.

"Heh, I guess you aren't one for idle chit-chat either. That's fine with me. So," he said conversationally, "is that your only pokémon?"

The trainer looked at him for a second, looked at his cyndaquil, looked back at him, and nodded.

"This'll be a one-on-one battle, then. Are you ready?

The kid, instead of nodding or saying 'yes', held up his hand and made what Falkner recognized as a sign for yes. As in, sign language.

Fantastic.

Falkner had seen his fair share of challengers pull a Red on him.

'Pulling a Red', as he had dubbed it, was when a trainer absolutely refused to talk at all while they were in the Gym. Not to order an attack, not to ask or answer a question, nothing. Now, Falkner had a great deal of respect for what was in all likelihood the most powerful pokémon trainer in the world, but refusing to speak to anyone in a pathetic attempt to be more like Red . . . that was just plagiarism! All the trainers who did it thought that they were being cool and unique, and was just so . . . annoying. No, exasperating!

It was really sad that he couldn't kick out anyone who refused to speak in his presence. Honestly, he had yet to meet a challenger who had a valid physical or psychological reason not to talk. On the plus side, he'd never once lost to a trainer who did that. They'd never so much as come _close _to winning. This battle wouldn't last long. The kid would walk out of here with a lesson learned.

"All right, let's get this over with," Falkner said flatly. He tossed a pokéball high in the air. "Pidgeotto, take to the sky!" (That was his favorite line, by the way.)

As soon as Pidgeotto had been released, he let out an ear-piercing screech and did several mid-air loops before landing gracefully on the platform.

Falkner called out to one of his Gym trainers. "Abe! I am in need of your assistance."

Abe, one of the newer trainers here, was quick to comply. He ran past the challenger and approached Falkner. "Yes, Falkner?"

The Gym Leader pointed to his right, towards one side of the battlefield. "Referee."

Abe looked frightened. "I—but Falkner!" he stammered, "I—I don't know how—I've never—"

"Don't worry, it's a simple procedure. Stand over there, announce who will be battling who, keep an eye out for foul play—that's foul, not fowl—and announce who wins. Understood?"

"Uh, okay, sure. Uh, what's his name?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. Ask him."

Abe looked confused, but obeyed Falkner's request. He looked at the challenger. "Uh, so, what's your name?"

The kid pulled out a trainer card—as Falkner knew he would—and held it up.

"Uh, okay." Abe ran over to his assigned spot, while Falkner and the challenger took their places. "So do I start now—yes? Okay." Abe cleared his throat several times before speaking. "Uh, so, this will be a match between Falkner, the Violet City Gym Leader, and Gold Heart of New Bark Town. Uh . . . let the match begin!"

Falkner wasted no time. "Gust!"

Pidgeotto flapped his wings hard, creating a mini tornado. It sped towards Cyndaquil (Falkner was going to assume that was its name), and the fire-type flattened itself on the floor. The attack made it wince a little, but otherwise it remained relatively unharmed.

"Tackle!"

Pidgeotto dived down, but just barely missed when Cyndaquil Quick Attacked away. Without needing further orders Pidgeotto gave chase, hitting his target easily, but flew away not unscathed. Cyndaquil had managed to Ember Pidgeotto right in the face. The flying-type retreated to the air again, flapping around in a rather put-out fashion. Cyndaquil, meanwhile, was crouched on the floor, poised to either fight or flee.

And so the battle continued on for about seven or eight minutes, both sides trading blows and dodging about. Falkner has to admit that the Gold kid had obviously planned well ahead. Cyndaquil, though by no means a flawless battler, was doing much better on its own than he had expected. None of Falkner's moves as of yet had seemed to take the small pokémon entirely off-guard. It was time to step up the game.

"It's time to give our little friend a flying lesson. Grab it!"

Pidgeotto swooped down, claws extended. The cyndaquil was no easy catch, though. It employed several Quick Attacks to get away, but it was rapidly tiring. It was about a two minutes before Cyndaquil slumped to the ground, panting. Gold's expression, initially cool and focused, looked rather worried now.

Without further ado, Pidgeotto grabbed the unfortunate cyndaquil in his talons and took to the air, preparing to fling his foe across the battlefield.

Falkner had forgotten about the whole cyndaquil-is-a-fire-type thing. He was reminded of that little fact when Pidgeotto loosened his grip in surprise after Cyndaquil's back burst into flames.

Falkner kicked himself (not literally, though) for making such a rookie mistake. Now his pidgeotto was squawking in anger, feet and underside burned. He tried to land, but the floor hurt his feet, and he was forced to take flight again.

"Gust!"

The flying-type whirled up another tornado and sent it towards Cyndaquil. This time his aim was true, and the opponent was swept off its feet and into the air. It squealed in panic before sending Embers every which way, some of which hit Pidgeotto.

"Tackle it!"

His partner complied, slamming into his opponent with impressive force. Cyndaquil was sent flying (no pun intended) towards the ground, but was able to soften the impact a little by rolling. And then . . .

Good gracious, _why_? Why did this always happen in _his _Gym?

The cyndaquil was evolving. It glowed a brilliant white, and its body morphed into a taller, more slender form. The light faded, revealing an elegant quilava.

"Lava!" it cried out boldly, and without hesitation, fired a much more powerful Ember at Pidgeotto. The flying-type promptly fell to the floor, unconscious.

. . . That was anticlimactic.

"Pidgeotto is unable to battle! Gold and Quilava win!"

Falkner sighed as he returned his pokémon and watched Gold and Quilava celebrate. The newly-evolved fire-type was standing on its hind feet and had its front paws on Gold's stomach, looking like an excited puppy. Gold was stroking the top of its head, smiling broadly.

Well, at least the two got along nicely, even if the kid _was_ a lame plagiarizer.

Falkner strode over to Gold, who looked up at him expectantly. "Congratulations, challenger. You're the first person who's ever won a badge without directing his pokémon in any way. But that will most likely not get you very far. Only the most skilled trainers can employ a strategy like that and expect to be able to win consistently."

Gold looked a little resigned at that, but his only response was a casual shrug. Quilava stood there quietly next to its trainer, having changed from happy-go-lucky to prim and proper in an instant.

"Anyway, here are your winnings." Falkner handed over the badge, prize money, and TM. "Well, have a good night."

Gold returned his pokémon and walked away after shaking the Gym Leader's hand and waving goodbye.

Falkner called after the trainer. "I'd reassess my battling strategy if I were you!" He was honestly trying to help. Gold seemed to be reasonably talented, and he could prove to be a formidable opponent if he was just willing to call out orders.

Gold didn't seem to hear him though, and climbed down the rope ladder without looking back.

Hm. It might do the kid some good to invest in a pair of hearings aids. . . .

OoOoOoOoO

"Bayleef, what are you doing? Slow down!"

Crystal huffed in frustration as her pokémon completely ignored her. It was nighttime in Violet City, and Crystal had been heading back to the center. She had kept Bayleef out for protection, and now she was beginning to regret that decision. Why hadn't she chosen Butterfree instead?

Well, maybe because a dinosaur was more likely to keep strangers away than a butterfly was.

Anyway, it's wasn't like Bayleef had ever suddenly run off before. Maybe it had something to do with the night air, who knew. At least the streets were well-lit, she thought, as she tried to catch up.

They rounded a corner and ran in the general direction of the Violet City Gym. Not twenty feet from them, some boy and his pokémon were ambling along, oblivious to the fact that an excited grass-type was barreling straight towards them.

"Watch out!"

Too late. The quilava, as Crystal realized it was, had been a few meters in front of its trainer and safely out of the way. The boy wasn't so lucky. Bayleef took a flying leap at him, and they both went down hard.

The quilava got to them first, and growled viciously at the grass-type, who quickly backed away. Crystal got there right after that, stuttering apologies and offering to help the trainer up. He hastily stumbled to his feet on his own, however, and backed away, looking slightly disorientated.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened, I—"

He didn't seem to be listening, and was instead staring at Bayleef, wide-eyed. Then he grinned and reached out to pet him. Bayleef accepted this happily, while the quilava just looked on grumpily. Bayleef turned back to Crystal.

"Bay!" her grass pokémon said impatiently, looking from the stranger and Crystal and back again. He then walked up to Crystal and nudged her backpack. She was pretty sure what he was trying to tell her.

"Are you Gold?"

The stranger, still looking at Bayleef, didn't answer until his quilava nudged his leg and jerked its head in her direction. Crystal repeated her question when he was looking at her again, and he hesitated before nodding and eying her suspiciously.

Crystal held up her hands. "Hey, I'm not a stalker. Long story short, I have your hat." She snatched the cap out of her backpack and handed it to him. Gold reached out a hand and delicately took it from her. He didn't seem to know what to do next, and honestly, neither did she.

"Um, so . . ." she began, and realized that he, again, wasn't listening to her. His eyes wandered around from Bayleef, who was talking up a storm, to the quilava, who looked indifferent. Then he locked eyes with her briefly. Then he shoved his hat back on his head, did a little one-shoulder shrug, and awkwardly waved goodbye.

And just like that, he walked away.

If that wasn't the most awkward interaction with a stranger she'd ever had, it was at least in the top ten.

"Uh, so, Bayleef," Crystal said, "I guess he's the one you've met before?" He nodded. "The quilava, too?"

Bayleef nodded again, and watched sadly as trainer and pokémon walked away. He obviously didn't want them to leave. Crystal regarded her pokémon for a moment, then sighed. She didn't know anything about this guy, but if Bayleef trusted him, then maybe she could too.

She wondered if she was going to regret asking this. Probably.

"Do you want to go after him?"

The looked on Bayleef's face was all the answer she needed. "Okay then, but remember that this was your idea!" Bayleef nodded enthusiastically, and together, they ran after the other two.

"Hey Gold! Wait up!"

OoOoOoOoO

A/N This was honestly my best try. I'm just not very good at writing (yet)!

My birthday is coming up very soon. A review would be an awesome birthday present. *shameless vie for reviews* :D Accountless people, remember that I accept anonymous reviews!


	6. No One is Safe

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.

A/N Sorry for not uploading in a while, guys. Life's been a little bleh lately. But here it is, finally (and it's my longest chapter yet)! I was originally going to post a flashback chapter, but that's still in the making, and this chapter got done first.

I'm not sure if this chapter's especially good or especially poor, or maybe just average. I'm hoping for the first one.

Sort-of warning: There is some angsty stuff in here, and I've never really done that before. If it makes you gag, I am sorry. I tried my best to make it good.

OoOoOoOoO

Chapter 6: No One is Safe

Crystal, Bayleef at her heels, dashed towards Gold's receding figure. She didn't know whether to be annoyed or concerned at his complete lack of response to her call.

She quickly caught up to him and gave him a firm tap on the shoulder, which was apparently the wrong thing to do. Gold flinched badly and whirled around to face her, looking abnormally startled. He quickly recovered, though, and sent her an irritated scowl. His quilava looked at her and Bayleef with an expression of aloof curiosity on its face.

Crystal resisted the urge to huff at the blatantly annoyed look on Gold's face. He didn't need to overreact so much—it's wasn't like she meant to scare him.

But, not one to pick a fight, Crystal put on a passably apologetic expression. "Sorry about that."

Gold responded with a half-shrug, but didn't say anything. He ditched the stupid glare, though, and was now simply looking at her expectantly.

Suddenly, she didn't know what to say without sounding _really_ awkward. _Hey, my bayleef likes you, so you wanna hang out? _Yeah, that sounded stupid. And stalkerish.

Before she could formulate a proper sentence, though, she saw Gold's eyes rove from her face to the night sky.

All traces of blood drained from his face, leaving it a sickly shade of gray. Without warning, he grabbed her arm and started to run, roughly yanking her towards a dark alleyway.

Crystal gasped and tried to rip her arm away, but Gold's hand held on like a vice as he dragged her along. She doggedly struggled against him (thoughts of getting Bayleef to help absent from her mind) until she caught a glimpse of the sky.

Her blood ran cold.

Massive flying-type pokémon—hundreds of them—swarmed the air as they descended into the city. Their silhouettes stood out in stark relief against the starry backdrop, and Crystal could make out the shapes of dozens of fearow, xatu, and honchcrow.

And the noise! The air positively vibrated with the sounds of screeching birds and screaming humans. What once Crystal thought was a rather lonely part of the city now seemed to be filled with panicked civilians running every which way. She could distantly make out a few words here and there ("_Get everyone inside!_""_Watch out!_" "_Mommy, where are you?_"), but it mostly just wordless shouting.

Bayleef was running alongside her with his head up and alert, ready to lash out at anything that came near. Ahead of her and slightly to her left, Crystal spotted the lithe form of Gold's quilava, head and tail blazing.

It was only when she felt herself suddenly surrounded by darkness that Crystal realized that she was still being dragged along by this Gold character. She yanked her arm away (successfully, this time) and glared at him.

"What are you playing at?" Okay, so he had just been trying to help. But he'd managed to scare her pretty badly, so she felt justified.

Gold ignored the question and simply gestured for her to come closer to the side of the alleyway. She complied (she was just about to do that anyway) without complaint. Just after they sat down against one of the brick buildings, Crystal turned to him, ire forgotten for now. They were in immediate danger, after all—if she looked out at the street, she could see that dozens of the flying-types had landed close by—and a plan would probably do them good.

"We need to get inside somewhere," she hissed at him. "Anywhere with a roof is fine."

Gold, who was now looking towards the opening of the alley, made no indication that he'd heard her. His quilava crept closer to where the action was, then turned to them and jerked its head in a 'follow me' sort of gesture. Bayleef hurried up to the fire-type, then looked back at them with an expression that clearly said, "What are you waiting for?"

The two trainers faced each other, eyes locked in a silent attempt to gauge the others' approval. Crystal spoke up first, raising her voice to be heard over the steadily rising din.

"Should we follow them?" Maybe the area was clear enough for them to make a break for it.

Gold paused briefly, then gave a curt nod. Together, they cautiously walked up to their partners and took in the scene before them.

The streets were teaming with not only pokemon, but their owners as well, who had apparently been riding the birds. Some of the humans released several houndour, which immediately started to howl and spit flames. The light of the fire gave more visibility to the invaders, and Crystal could make out a single red R on the front of each persons' shirt. She felt her breath catch in her throat.

Crystal had seen that mark before. It had been all over the news when she was twelve. That R was the trademark sign of an organization that had been eradicated by Trainer Red three years ago.

Team Rocket. Back from the dead.

A million thoughts swirled around her head at once. When did they come back? How? Why were they here?

She was brought back to the present by Gold, who had just pressed himself against the wall again, and pulled her with him. It was obvious that he had recognized them too—his face was even grayer than before, and he was standing stock-still, staring in appalled horror at the stream of Rocket members flooding the surrounding area.

Quilava and Bayleef looked wary and unsure, probably wondering whether to stay here and hide, or to try to escape with their trainers to somewhere more secure. They looked up at the two humans, their eyes imploring. _What do we do?_

Gold's eyes kept looking out at the chaos, then looking back to where they were right now. Crystal could practically see the gears grinding in his head, trying to come up with a plan—_any _plan—to get themselves out of this mess. He looked down at the pokegear on his wrist and rapidly typed something out and held it to her face.

**Have any othr pkm?**

She nodded. _Does this guy ever talk?_ "Yeah, a butterfree. Should I send her out?"

Gold glanced at his quilava, who was still looking up at him. He turned back to Crystal and nodded.

She grabbed the pokéball out of her bag and pressed the button. Butterfree appeared in a flash of light and gave a worried cry. Quilava ran up to the bug-type and started speaking to her, probably explaining the situation. After several seconds of rundown, she flitted closer to the main street area, then hovered there fretfully. She looked at both Gold and Crystal, ready to obey a command from either one of them.

Or maybe not, because she abruptly turned around and flew completely out of the alley, apparently with a plan. She flew high in the air and flapped her wings hard, dispersing a fine purple dust on many of the nearby Rockets. Poisonpowder.

The Rocket humans stumbled and furiously scrubbed at their eyes, while their pokémon, receiving no orders to follow, stopped their attack and nervously waited for their trainers to recover. Poisonpowder, when used as a fairly wide-ranged move as Butterfree had just done, often had little effect on pokemon. Humans were a different matter. While not lethal, it was still poisonous, and it wrecked havoc on human's bodies when the stuff landed in their eyes and air passages. It wouldn't put them completely out of commission, but it would give Gold and Crystal enough time to make a break for it.

They didn't waste any time in bolting out of their hiding place and trying to run to a Rocket-free area, which quickly proved to be more difficult than they had expected. It wasn't that there were so many people that they couldn't move anywhere—it was just that they had been spotted.

Several Rockets quickly swiped their eyes and rasped out commands to their pokémon. The teens found themselves up against half a dozen snarling houndour.

Crystal's heart was pounding painfully hard against her chest. What were they supposed to do now? Randomly bark out orders?

That sounded like a plan.

"Bayleef, Butterfree, use Poisonpowder!" In her peripheral vision, Crystal spotted Quilava making a mad dash towards the group of houndour. It dodged around the dark-types, spewing out thick smoke wherever it went. Crystal bit her lip in anxiety—if it wasn't very careful, Quilava could easily get a face-full of either Bayleef and Butterfree's Poisonpowder or the houndours' Smog attack.

She and Gold both heaved a sigh of relief when the fire-type spring out of the smoke, beautifully unscathed. The relief didn't last long. Three of the houndour were tired and disorientated from the smoke and poison, but there were still three left to go. Crystal supposed they lucky that none of the other Rockets had joined their little fray—they would've been completely done for if that happened.

The Rockets members shouted out commands, and the three houndour sprang towards them in unison. Quilava bombarded its opponent with an onslaught of Quick Attacks while Bayleef and Butterfree dodged about and attacked whenever they could.

Crystal quickly scanned the area for more incoming Rockets, but they all seemed to be heading to one specific place—Falkner's Gym. From where she was standing, Crystal could just make out a figure standing on the very top of the pyramid-shaped roof. Judging from the large bird pokemon swirling around the figure and dive-bombing the Rockets, she would be willing to bet that that was the Gym Leader himself.

Turning back to the battle, Crystal felt a little more optimistic. Once they warded of these grunts, they would hopefully be able to make it to safety.

That idea was dashed when Crystal heard footsteps behind them.

"Hold your fire, comrades."

Crystal whirled around as the Rocket grunts called back their pokemon. Standing not ten feet from her was a tall, thin, teal-haired man. He was smiling calmly, almost serenely, as he regarded the two young trainers. Gold had turned around by this time as well, but he wasn't looking at the man's face, but rather, who he had with him.

Standing in front of him, held in a firm grasp and with a knife to his throat, was a red haired boy about her age. The Rocket smirked lightly. "Pleasure to meet you, children. How are you this fine night?"

Crystal straightened up and squared her shoulders. "We'd be a lot better if you'd let that guy go. And maybe if you'd cleared the city, too."

The man looked amused. "Well, aren't you feisty? But so very polite. Tell you what," he said, pressing the blade against the captive's throat (who snarled and sucked in a breath), "if you hand us your pokémon without a fuss, I'll let him go."

Crystal gritted her teeth. "So is that why you're here? You bring a huge mob and trash the city to steal a few pokémon?"

The man laughed out loud. He looked very at-ease. Not that he didn't have any reason to be—not only were his fellow Rockets causing mayhem throughout the city, but he had a young hostage. Not to mention his only immediate opposition was a pair of rookie trainers. He was in complete control, and they all knew it.

"Well, that _is _a bit of a bonus, I should say. We're mostly here to, shall we say, make a point. Your pokémon look rather nice, though, so I'd like to have them." The arrogant look on his face was infuriating, and Crystal felt like screaming.

"So let's not waste any more time. You are to recall your pokémon and hand them over without a fight. We don't want any trouble. I don't want to have to kill any children if I don't need to, but whether I do or not is up to you," he said smoothly.

Crystal looked helplessly at Gold. Gold pressed his lips together in a firm line, looking defeated, and nodded to her. There was no other choice—they wouldn't risk the life of an innocent. He spared a glance at his quilava, who tensed up and crouched on the ground, glaring at the Rocket ringleader. Bayleef looked grimly resigned, while Butterfree was clearly very frightened.

_I'm sorry, guys._ Crystal slowly withdrew her pokéballs from her bag, while Gold pulled one from his pocket. Crystal gave her pokémon a weak smile. "Don't worry, you two. It'll be okay."

"Stop stalling." The man's voice held no more patience. "_Return _them,"

Suddenly, though, something round and suspiciously pokéball-sized flew towards him, striking him squarely in the forehead. He recoiled slightly and cursed, loosening his grip on the red-head, who promptly dropped to the ground while Quilava lunged forward.

What followed was pure chaos. Quilava had managed to bring the teal-haired man to the ground, knocking his knife away in the process, but a houndour, under the orders of one of the grunts, barreled forward into Quilava's side, starting a vicious wrestling match.

The grunts looked panicked—apparently, the houndour were the only pokémon they had on hand—while their leader, having risen to his feet, was livid. He flung two pokéballs in the air, releasing a golbat and a weezing. The golbat swooped over to Butterfree, hitting her hard and smashing her to the ground. Quilava had gotten free of the houndour and was now racing to Butterfree's aid, but cried out in pain and fell to the ground when it was Sludged by the weezing.

"Croconaw, use Water Gun on the weezing! Gastly, Curse the golbat!"

Crystal suddenly realized that the red-haired teen joined her and Gold in the fight. He was standing between the two of them, snarling at the Rockets as he directed his team. The weezing was knocked several feet away, and as it prepared to attack the blue alligator pokémon, it was hit from behind by an Ember from Quilava. The gastly looked exhausted and pained from the effects of its attack, while the golbat, who was still fighting—and winning—against Butterfree, seemed uneffected. For now.

"Bayleef, Razor Leaf the golbat!" The move wasn't meant to damage the bat, only to distract it from Butterfree, which it did. The golbat flew high in the air, then set its sights on Bayleef instead.

"Golbat, Wing Attack!" The hit landed, sending Bayleef reeling. As Golbat went in for another, it suddenly screeched in pain, and nearly fell out of the air. It recovered quickly, but was very shaken—courtesy of Gastly's Curse.

Crystal grimaced as she returned her fallen butterfree, who hadn't risen after the golbat's assault. Then she heard Gold gasp, and looked in his direction to see what had happened. Her breath caught in her throat.

Smoke was pouring out the Gym's windows—the Rockets had set it on fire. They were about a hundred feet from the Gym, but even above all the noise outside, Crystal could hear the terrified shrieks of the many bird pokémon—and their trainers—trapped inside.

The Rockets had noticed this as well. "Fall back!" their leader shouted. "We're done here." He put two of his fingers to his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. Right on cue, a large fearow sped towards him. The man swiftly recalled his other pokémon, then smoothly mounted the bird as it flew by. The other Rockets returned their fainted battlers, then made their way to the Gym and climbed on their own flying-types.

As leader's fearow flew away, it gave a long, loud screech. This must have been a signal for all the other Rockets to retreat, for they did just that. They climbed aboard their charges without hesitation, then disappeared into the dark sky.

But the Gym was still ablaze, and the air was still filled with horrible screams. Gold turned to the others. He jerked his head towards the burning building. He didn't have to say anything to make himself understood. _We need to help them. _Without waiting for a response, he sprinted off, Quilava in tow.

The stranger turned towards her and fixed her with an appraising, steely-eyed gaze. "I'm going after Gold," he said curtly. "You do what you want." And with that, he returned his gastly, barked at his croconaw to follow him, and ran after the black-haired boy.

Crystal felt Bayleef nudge her leg. She looked down at him, then back up at the fiery Gym. "All right, Bayleef. Let's see what we can do to help."

OoOoOoOoO

Gold ran as fast as his legs would carry him, taking big gulps of air, which grew smokier the closer they got to the Gym. With the Rockets gone, it was substantially less crowded, and it wasn't too hard to get to the front doors, which stood wide open.

He slumped over and put his hands on his knees, wheezing slightly. _Quilava, _he said, still trying to regain his breath, _do you think you can go in there and see who you can get out?_

_Of course! _she replied with confidence. She was a _fire_-type, after all—the flames would be hard-pressed to harm her, and the smoke couldn't damage her hardy set of lungs. _You stay there. _Then she bounded into the building.

Gold stood there, waiting with baited breath as flying-types raced in and out of the Gym, the larger ones carrying trainers, the smaller ones leading their fellow birds out into the fresh air.

Quilava suddenly ran out with a tiny pidgey in her mouth. She ran past him and put the pidgey in a nearby bush—safely away from smoke and flames and trampling feet. When she returned to his side, she looked almost frantic. _Gold, _she said, _there are still people and pok__é__mon on the higher floor._

That was bad, but nothing he hadn't expected. _All right, I'll have to try to get up there—_

_The ladder's broken. _

_What?_

Quilava's eyes were wide with fright. _The ladder's broken, and the fire's climbing up the walls. _She looked at him imploringly. _What do we do?_

Gold bit his lip. He didn't know what do do. He looked around at the people gathered outside, who all seemed to be trying to come up with something to do to help, but there were no pokémon around that could climb, and the flying-types were all sick and exhausted from from all the smoke. His gaze went back to Quilava, who was staring at him anxiously—but trustingly. She had no doubt that he could get everyone out of this mess, and was simply waiting to be given instructions.

His thoughts raced, even as his heart sank. There wasn't anything he could do to get everyone out, plain and simple. But, he thought, he could try to stop the flames. Better the victims die from smoke inhalation than burn to death. _Round up any water-type you can find, and tell them to put out the fire. Run!_

Quilava scampered away. Gold stood rooted to the spot for a moment, then ran in the direction of Sprout Tower. It had a large pond in front of it, he recalled. It wasn't at all far away from the Gym, either. He hoped his idea would work.

He arrived at the edge of the pond and skidded to a halt. He'd never tried calling out to any pokémon he'd never met, and wasn't sure he knew how. But he could try.

_Hey, all you water pokémon! Want to help a guy out? _

Nothing. He wasn't even sure they were aware of his presence.

_Gold! Gold!_

He whirled around and found himself face-to-face with none other than Croconaw, who had been running to the pond, probably for the same reason he had.

_Silver sent me here to help. Is there anything I can do__? _Croconaw asked.

Gold turned back to the pond and put his hands on his hips. _Yeah, _he said, staring into the water. _Do you think you could round up some recruits for a little firefighting?_

_Sure thing. _The water-type dove into the pond and vanished from sight. Gold spent a tense minute and a half waiting for Croconaw to resurface, jaw clenched and shoulders taught. He had counted to ninety-nine before he saw movement just beneath the surface.

Croconaw reemerged with an impressive gathering of poliwhirl behind him. The pond inhabitants eyed the trainer suspicially, then saw the smoke, and looked worried. _Okay, so, I haven't actually explained what going on here, but . . .here they are._

_All right. Just tell them tha__t the city was attacked and_ _we need help putting out the fire._

Croconaw relayed the information to them. Some of them, mostly the bigger poliwhirl, stepped forward immediately, but the majority looked unsure. One of the poliwhirl addressed Gold directly. _Wait, so some _human _place is burning down, and you need our help? Don't you, I dunno, have sort of human water brigade to do that for you?_

That was exactly what Gold had been thinking several minutes back. _I don't know. _(The poliwhirl looked surprised at 'hearing' him talk.) _My guess is they've been attacked, too. _He turned back to Croconaw. _Look, we need to hurry. __Tell them that if they're willing to help, we'll make sure that nobody will try to catch them, or hurt them, or anything like that. And if they don't want to help, well, _he added a little nastily, _they can just go back to whatever they were doing and not worry about the pok__é__mon that might end up being burned alive._

Croconaw repeated the information to the others, and Gold saw them turning towards each other, probably muttering things amongst themselves. He waited with bated breath. One of the larger poliwhirl stepped forwards. _We will help you, human. But you must keep your word; no one is to capture __or harm__ any of us._

_You have yourselves a deal. Now let's go, _he said, already turning around, _we're running out of time._

OoOoOoOoO

Bushes and tall grasses rustled softly as a little pidgey did her best to get along quickly. She was in Route 36 now, hopping-slash-stumbling along. She desperately wished she could fly right now, but she had just come from a very smokey Violet City, and a bird's delicate respiratory could only take so much abuse at a time. So she sort-of ran instead, wishing Walker would swoop in to the rescue.

She'd heard a lot of stories about Falkner's father. According to Falkner, he was the best flying-type trainer in the world—no one else even came close. If he was so good, then surely he could make everything right for the Gym, right?

"Hey, Pidgey! A bit late for your kind to be out for a stroll, no?"

She skidded to a halt, then flopped down on her belly. She was tired, and completely defenseless right now, but she wasn't worried for her safety. She knew that voice.

A large noctowl stood on a low branch of and old oak tree, and was looking down at her with some concern. Pidgey felt like crying in relief.

"N-Noctowl!" she gasped. "T-there's a fire . . .we need Walker. . . ."

The owl pokémon cocked his head to the side. "Oh, yes, I can see a bit of smoke from here. We haven't had a forest fire around here since, oh, well before you were born. Don't worry, though. The locals all know how to evacuate in such a situation, and I can carry you if need be—"

"N-no! Not . . .forest. Gym. People and pokémon . . .stuck. Lots of them. Walker . . .can fix it. Can't find Falkner. Need . . .Walker."

Noctowl was shocked. All the bird pokémon surrounding the city—in fact many all across Johto—knew of the Violet City Gym. Once owned by Walker, bird master of Johto, then passed down to his son Falkner (Bird Master Junior), the Gym was a widely respected place of training, and often sanctuary, for a multitude of of flying-types. Noctowl knew that Pidgey had been living there for a fortnight now, after the runt had been abandoned by her parents and Falkner had found her and offered a place to stay awhile.

Now the tiny fledgeling was seeking help for the only real home she had ever known, and everyone still trapped inside. She was right to come here—they needed Walker. Noctowl nodded. "I'll find him."

Then he was off.

Pidgey gave a little sigh, then slowly closed her eyes. She'd done her part to the best of her ability. She just hoped it was enough.

OoOoOoOoO

Noctowl flew as fast as he could as he climbed higher and higher above the forest of Route 36, his wings making no sound as he went up. He was going to try to tap into Pidgeot's (one of Walker's more powerful pokémon) mind, using his psychic powers to create a mental link.

_Pidgeot! _his mind called out. _This is Noctowl of Route 36 speaking. The citizens of Violet City are in need of Walker's aid!_

Noctowl felt a the voice of another inside his head. _What happened? _Pidgeot's mind asked him. _Is the Gym of your city in danger?_

_Yes, very much so. The Gym is up in flames, with many still trapped inside. I have reason to believe that Falkner is among them. Please hurry._

There was a horribly tense pause. Then . . .

_We're coming._

OoOoOoOoO

Silver surveyed the scene before him. He face held little sign of any emotion besides anger, which was mostly what he felt right now, anyway. Sure, he didn't want any innocent people to die, but his mind was mostly taken up with thought of Team Rocket.

Damn them! Just what were they trying to do here? The blueish-haired Rocket who had threatened to kill him had said something about 'making a point.' What kind of point were they trying to make? That they were back and ready to fight? That they had some personal vendetta against the region's Gyms?

Maybe they just wanted to be taken seriously. These people were ready and willing to maim and kill to get what they wanted—though what they wanted, Silver wasn't completely sure.

He nearly jumped when he felt Croconaw nudge his leg. Croconaw turned his head to the posse of poliwhirl he had brought along. He then looked back at Silver, perhaps waiting for approval. Silver nodded. "Good enough," he said gruffly. "Tell them what to do."

His pokémon hurried off to direct the troops, and about half of them rushed into the Gym. Silver spotted a quilava—it must have belonged to that Gold kid—running out the door with a pair of weary poliwag on its back. It deposited them on the ground in front of one of the poliwhirl, who quickly rinsed them off with a gentle Water Gun. It was a good system—some of the water-types would go in to douse the flames, then come out when their skin became too dry. They would get hosed off while another batch would take a shift.

Suddenly, Silver felt something _swoosh _past him and into the Gym. He had only gotten a glimpse, but he knew who it was.

Crouched low on the back of a pidgeot, flying at break-neck speed, was Walker, former Violet City Gym Leader.

Silver watched as the Walker flew out only seconds later with an unconscious passenger held tightly in front of him. The pidgeot gently dropped a batch of pidgey and spearow on the ground before gently landing near a group of medics who had _finally _arrived.

"All right," Silver said, as he held up a pokéball and returned Croconaw, who had just come back out, "we're done here."

OoOoOoOoO

Hours later, not long before the sun would rise, Walker sat in a chair next to a hospital bed, head in his hands. When he'd arrived at the Gym, water-type pokémon—many of them wild—were hard at work, working together to put out the fire in the building. They shouldn't have had to do that—the Gym's interior was specially treated to be flame-resistant.

But Team Rocket had managed it. They must have come well-prepared. According to the witnesses, the Rockets had stormed the city on bird pokémon, and released a multitude of houndour and growlithe upon landing. Their main goal, it seemed, was to destroy the Gym, or at least its inhabitants. Not that that was the only thing they tried to do—many of the locals' pokémon were stolen. Some of them, perhaps accidentally, were killed.

The attack on the Gym was disastrous. The Gym had been filled with trainers and pokémon at the time, and were shown little mercy. The Rockets hadn't tried to kill any of them directly, but if they had, it would have arguably more humane. When Walker had flown over, most of the bird pokémon that were outside had passed out from the smoke. The larger ones had tried to help the others get out, but flying through the unventilated Gym had taken a toll on them.

The ones that were trapped in the Gym for longer periods had fared even worse. Some of them had flown all around, searching for an exit, but every window had been closed and locked, and the smokey air had left them disorientated. Many of the smaller ones, mostly pidgey, spearow, and hoothoot, had huddled together in little groups, hoping for rescue. As it turned out, that was the best thing the little ones could have done—if they had tried to fly away, they would have breathed in too much smoke, and most, if not all, of them would have died.

Many of Falkner's pokémon—such as his pidgeot, noctowl, swellow, and staraptor—had fought heroically, and suffered for it. The Rockets' pokémon had targeted them first, and fought without mercy. His son's team was very powerful, and some of the Gym trainers' had done their very best to fight back, but they were horribly outnumbered. By the time the Gym was set on fire, many of the Rockets' pokémon were out of commission, but not without bringing many others down with them. Many of the pokémon had ganged up on Falkner's pelipper early in the game—which, in all likelihood, was a premeditated decision to prevent it from helping with the fire that they started afterwords.

The pelipper was now being treated at the pokémon center, and was in critical condition. The nurses at the center had little hope of it surviving for much longer. Out of Falkner's entire team, it was in the worst shape. No, make that the second worst—Falkner's pidgeot was dead.

Walker sighed and massaged his temples as he mentally went over the damage to the city. The Gym, while it had some fallen platforms and beams, and was badly scorched, could be repaired without a huge amount of trouble. While it would take quite a while before it was completely back to normal, it could, in theory, be up and running in a few weeks, ready for more challengers.

But Falkner wouldn't be.

He was the last person to be taken out of the Gym. Walker had been the one who found him, trapped beneath a fallen beam, unconscious, blood soaking his clothes and pooling on the floor beneath him.

Things seemed to get worse when he was brought to the hospital. The doctor had taken one look at him then immediately ordered an emergency surgery. Falkner's condition was bad, and his list of injuries was long: second-degree burns on his arms and torso; bruised, cracked, and broken ribs; a broken collarbone; a punctured and collapsed lung; a damaged liver; torn muscles in one of his legs; massive internal bleeding; smashed fingers; and an arm that had been barely attached to the rest of his body by a bit of skin and ligaments.

Walker remembered pacing around one of the waiting rooms as the doctors worked to save his son's life. They had been honest with him; there was a distinct chance that Falkner wouldn't make it through the surgery. His heart had stopped only a few minutes after they had gotten him on the operating table, but the doctors were able to restart it without too much trouble. An hour later, he crashed again, and it took longer this time for his heart to start beating once more.

Walker wasn't sure how long the surgery lasted, but he guessed it had to have been at least five hours. When he was finally allowed to see his son, who was finally stabilized, he had gone to the room in a flat-out run. That was two hours ago. He hadn't left since.

He brought his head up and forced himself to look at his son. Falkner was still unconscious (he would be for a while), and he looked horrible. He was hooked up to different monitoring machines, making sure his heart kept beating and his oxygen levels stayed level. He had a tube in his chest to keep his lung from collapsing again, and another one down his throat, breathing for him. His right arm had been reattached, and was securely bandaged—he was lucky to still have it. Any of his skin that wasn't burned was ghostly pale. Speaking of ghosts . . .

"How is he?"

Walker turned his head to see none other than Morty, Leader of Ecruteak Gym, and ghost-type specialist. With his shoulder-length golden-blond hair, striking violet eyes, and general air of dignity and class, Morty was well-known for being unfairly immune to looking awkward, scruffy, ruffled, out-of-place, etcetera. Now, however, any sign of the collected Gym Leader was gone, leaving a worried, haggard man who looked far older than his twenty-five years.

Walker didn't trust himself to speak, and only looked down and shook his head. He wasn't surprised to see the clairvoyant here; he and Falkner had struck up a close friendship some years back, just after Falkner had taken over the Gym. News of what happened here must have hit him hard. Walker suddenly wondered just how Morty had learned of the incident so quickly.

As if he had read his mind (who knows, maybe he had), Morty spoke up again. "I had a vision." Ah. "I came here as fast as I could." His voice was soft, and sounded tired. "I could stay here if you'd like, while you get some rest," he added.

Walker simply shook his head again, then gestured for him to take a seat on the other side of the bed. As Morty complied, Walker stared at him blearily. "You look like hell," the older man said flatly.

Morty almost smiled. Almost. "The worse the vision, the worse the after-effects." He paused. "I told the police about everything I saw. Hopefully it will help."

Walker, almost unconsciously, reached up and gripped his son's hand (the unbroken one) in his own, staring at it as though worried it might disappear. "What did you see?" he asked, not looking up.

"Team Rocket members—close to a hundred, I would say. Only one of them I could see clearly. He was a higher-up, I believe. I do not know why he was there; one would think he would stay behind and send his orderlies to do the dirty work." He stared distantly off into space, then continued. "Perhaps he wanted to observe them more closely. Or he simply wanted to enjoy the spectacle in person."

Walker still didn't look up. "I'm not interested in your theories," he snapped, or would have, if he wasn't so tired. "Just tell me the dry facts, if you will," he added, a little less harshly.

Morty bowed his head. "I am sorry, Walker," he said apologetically. "I don't have very much else to tell you. There was a good deal of violence, and fear, and pain." He swallowed. "Falkner was trying to get everyone out. A fearow knocked him off the battling platform. The safety net had been destroyed. Pidgeot barely caught him in time to save him, and covered him when one of the walkways fell. Pidgeot was killed."

Morty had whispered the last part almost inaudibly, and was now hunched slightly over, looking at the floor, gripping his elbows tightly. Walker closed his eyes. "Anything else?" he croaked.

"Very little. There were three children that stood out for me—two boys and a girl. They couldn't have been older than fifteen or so. They had confronted the Rocket leader, or rather, he had confronted them. I could see his intentions—he didn't have a particular desire to kill them, only to take their pokémon. He had taken one of the children hostage—the boy had tried to stop him on his own.

"They got lucky; the leader ordered a retreat once the Gym caught fire. The three young ones went to help the others immediately after. One boy ran to ask the local water-types to put out the fire, and the other boy sent his pokémon along to assist him. The girl called the medics—no one else had."

Walker took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. This was a mess. "How . . .how many fatalities?"

Morty looked grieved. "In the Gym? At least one human, and about thirty pokémon. Outside the Gym, maybe ten or so pokémon, and no humans, as far as I know. Many more were injured."

Walker didn't want to ask the next question. "Who was the one who . . .didn't make it?"

Morty closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if trying to ward off a headache. "They haven't disclosed names. Or even told the public if any people died," he added quietly. "But, you know, I . . .I watched it happen." Morty clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. He placed his forehead on his palms, and Walker didn't miss the shaky breath he took. "It was child. I-it was just a little boy. He—he couldn't breathe."

Morty abruptly stood. He kept his face averted from Walker's. "I'm sorry, Walker. I-I do believe I should leave for just a little while. I will return in a few hours." After one last apologetic look at Falker, he walked out.

Walker sighed tiredly as the door closed. He turned back to Falkner's still form and squeezed his hand. "You know," he said huskily, "that was far and away the most emotional I'd ever seen your friend be." He smiled weakly. "You'll have to wake up here soon and cheer him up. Cheer me up, too. You were always good at that, weren't you, kiddo?" He gave a small laugh that sounded more like a sob, and he felt a stray tear roll down his face."You got a lot of people out here who care about you, you know that? Don't be going off and leaving them alone, you hear me?"

_Don't leave me alone._

OoOoOoOoO

Gold slowly came back to consciousness when he felt a bright light hit his eyes. Darn alarm clock. Keeping his eyes shut, he withdrew his arm from beneath the covers and waved it around, trying to find the snooze button. He felt nothing but air. He reluctantly opened his eyes and realized where the light was coming from.

The window.

Oh.

Gold dragged himself up in a sitting position, trying to remember how he got here. When the memories started to come back, he suddenly wished that they hadn't.

Last night had been awful—full of scared people and angry houndour and cough-inducing air. He freshly re-awoken mind vaguely remembered something about a bunch of poliwhirl, a Team Rocket guy with a knife, and some blond dude riding a pidgeot. As his mind perked up some more, he looked around the room, and his eyes landed on the bed next to his. Peeking out from under the covers was a head of ocean-blue hair.

Ah, yes, he remembered that. After the whole Team Rocket fiasco, many of the locals had stayed at the center in order to be closer to their injured pokémon. The rooms were quickly filling up, so Gold and Crystal had agreed to share a room. They were almost complete strangers, but after battling together the other night, they figured they could trust each other enough to not turn this into a weird situation. Not that Gold would ever do that anyway, oh no.

Last night had been awkward. The paramedics on scene had forced everyone that had been near the Gym to get checked over. Gold and Crystal had been sitting next to each other, oxygen masks in place, when the medics started to ask them questions—how are you feeling, are you lightheaded, and so forth. Crystal had answered their questions clearly and without hesitation. Gold, on the other hand, had obviously been a different story. It had been too dark out for him to see much of what they'd been saying, and he had already returned Quilava, so she couldn't help him either. They'd assumed that he had a some sort of head injury, and Gold pointing to his ear and shaking his head hadn't seemed to tip them off at all.

He learned afterwords that Crystal had figured it out first, and told the medics. Some had looks of enlightenment on their faces, while others had managed to look professionally embarrassed (Gold wished he could pull that look off). They'd been released soon after that. Without further communication, the two of them had walked to the pokémon center together.

The center had been crowded when they'd gotten there, and Crystal had pulled Gold off to the side soon after they were in. She had a pokégear strapped to her wrist, and she had quickly typed something out.

**this might sound weird, but i thought maybe we could share a room. we may not be able to get 1 each**

Gold had responded in kind. **yeah thats fine. and u can just talk i can read lips u kno**

"Oh, right, of course. I'll get the room key. Be right back."

They'd wasted no time after Crystal had gotten the key (and dropped off her butterfree) at the admission desk, and had quickly walked to their room.

After they had taken turns showering and changing into some clean clothes, they'd both struck up a somewhat awkward discussion of the night's events. Gold had asked her if she was planning to leave Violet in the morning, and she had replied that she was staying for at least another week—apparently, her grandparents lived on the other side of town, and she wanted to stay with them for a little while.

It was then that Crystal remembered to introduce herself at last. "I'm Crystal, but call me Chris," she had said. "Well, you know, you can call me that in your head. . . ." Gold had snickered slightly at that, and Crystal—Chris—had given him a lopsided smile in return.

They had gone to bed not long after that, and within ten minutes, were both fast asleep.

Which brought him back to the present. Gold shifted a little and looked at the clock sitting on a nightstand between the two beds. 9:31, it read.

Whoa.

He swung his legs off the bed, shifting the blankets and waking up Quilava, who was lying on top of the covers. She shook her head and blinked sleepily. _Are we leaving?_

_Not right away. Go back to sleep if you want._

_That sounds like a good idea. _She closed her eyes again.

Gold rolled his eyes and smiled as he went into the bathroom to change out of his pajamas. He would wait patiently until Quilava was ready to leave. After last night, she deserved all the rest she wanted. And, he thought, he could use a bit of downtime too.

He'd just come out of the bathroom when his pokégear buzzed. He looked at the screen, which informed him that he'd gotten an email. He sat down on the bed and opened the message. It was from Lyra, which was unusual. They texted each other on a daily basis, but Lyra usually only sent an email if it was something really important.

_Heya Gold! _the email read._ Guess what! No, don't guess, I'll tell you! You know after you left and stuff? Well, I spent a lot of time at your house, making sure your mom wasn't lonely (she misses you and everything, but she's not all sad and stuff, don't worry). Then, about a week ago, she just came out and said that I should think about going on a journey too. Which was really weird, because I was thinking the same thing! I really wanted to go, but I didn't want to leave Dad and your mom alone. But your mom says that if I want to go, I should at least try it out for a little while._

_So that's what I'm doing! I was worried that Dad wouldn't let me go, but he was surprisingly cool with it. He just told me to be really careful, and keep Marill out at all times, and call him every day (sound familiar?). Marill's having a lot of fun, I can tell, and so am I! I'm not sure if I'm gonna try to get all the Badges or not. I mostly just want to travel. You know, see new things, meet new people, all that jazz._

_Please don't be mad I didn't tell you earlier! I wanted it to be a surprise for later, so . . .surprise? _

_Anywho, I'm a few miles into Route 30 now. I haven't caught any new pokémon yet (have you? :3), but I passed by Mr. Pokémon's house, then met this weird kid with a rattata who kept rambling on about top percentages and shorts (don't ask)._

_Okay, Marill's being a brat right now and wants to get going again, so I'll text you later._

_Bye!_

Gold read the email with mixed feelings. On one hand, he was really happy that Lyra going on a journey now—she was obviously enjoying herself, and it'd be cool to meet up at some point and maybe travel together, if Lyra wanted to.

On the other hand, he was worried. Violet City had just been attacked—what if those Rockets came back again? What if Lyra was there when it happened? Just thinking about it made him feel sick.

Should he stick around and wait until she arrived, then leave when she did? Gold didn't particularly want to stay in one place for that long, but he'd willingly do it if it meant Lyra would be safer.

But _would _she be safer? If he stayed here, and the Rockets came back, maybe some of them would recognize him. He had, after all, thrown a pokéball in the leader dude's face and teamed up with Silver and Chris to battle him and his minions. He didn't know how bad-tempered these guys were, or how good their memories were, but he didn't want to be singled out if they came back. If that happened, and Lyra was with him . . .

Gold sighed in frustration and dug his fingernails into his scalp as he tried to think. He didn't know how criminals' minds worked! Sure, he'd spent time with some downright nasty people before (coughhisdadcough), but he didn't know a thing about the workings of the newly-rejuvenated Team Rocket. He paced around the room, struggling to come to a decision.

He contemplated the idea of telling Lyra to turn back and go home until things were better. But, he thought, what if Team Rocket went to New Bark? The lab was there, after all—they could decide to check it for rare pokémon to steal. Lyra often liked to hang out at the lab, and would occasionally help out the Professor by rearranging his desk—which was an amazing feat, in Gold's opinion (though now he was getting a little off-topic).

It seemed that whatever way he looked at it, Lyra could run into trouble.

He stopped his pacing for a moment and stared thoughtfully at Chris, who was still nestled under the covers. His mind went back to their conversation last night. She was staying in Violet for a while—she'd know if something bad came up while she was here, wouldn't she?

Gold huffed and blew at his bangs. Maybe he was over-thinking this. Perhaps his fears were entirely unfounded, and it wouldn't matter whether he stayed or left, and whatever Lyra did wouldn't lead her into any danger. Then, later on, he could look back and laugh at how paranoid he had been. Or, maybe, his decision would actually matter.

He sighed. This whole go-on-a-journey-and-be-a-trainer thing was a lot more complicated than he had expected.

OoOoOoOoO

Chris woke up to an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. She vaguely wondered if she was sick or something, but then recognized that feeling as hunger. It was ten o' clock in the morning now, and she hadn't eaten since early last night.

Just thinking of last night made her cringe. She wasn't looking forward to going outside and seeing the damage, or hearing on the news information about how many were injured or killed. This day was going to be a long one.

Suddenly, she realized that Gold wasn't here anymore. She supposed she shouldn't be too surprised—trainers weren't exactly known for sleeping in. She felt a little lonely, though. It would have been nice to get to know him, she thought. Granted, she didn't know much about his personality, but he seemed decent enough, and his quilava, from what she saw of it, was quite the spirited little thing.

Well, no use staying in bed any longer. She got up and twisted around slightly, stretching her back. It was then that she caught sight of something on the nightstand.

Lying next to her pokégear was a piece of note paper and a small photograph. Curiously, she picked up the photo.

It showed the image of a very pretty girl, who looked just a little younger then she was. The girl was rather short, and had long, somewhat spindly arms and legs that would have made most people look gawky, but they suited her. She had a cute little round face, with big, bright brown eyes and a sweet smile. Her brown hair was held in two low ponytails, and, like Chris's, reached down several inches past her shoulders. She was standing outdoors, underneath a tree, clutching a marill to her chest.

Chris supposed that Gold had left the picture here by accident, or maybe someone else had left it here and no one had realized it until now. She put the photo down and picked up the notepaper. It read:

_Chris,_

_I put my name in your list of contacts in your po__k__é__gear. Long story short, I need someone I can count on to let me know if they see any sign of Rocket activity. Seriously, if you see __anything__ that you think looks suspicious, then __please__ text me, or email me, or whatever. Let. Me. Know. I don't know if there's really much to worry about, but for all we know, one of us might end up running into that blue-haired dude we battled the other night. __I don't know if he'd recognize us or anything, but for all I know, he could have us at the top of his hit-list for trying to mess with him. (I mean, probably not, __but __whatever__.__)_

_I left you a picture of my best friend. Her name is Lyra, and she left home just a little while ago. She'll probably be in Violet in a week or two. She's part of the reason I want you to call me if anything looks fishy. I don't want her getting hurt, and I'm not sure if I should stick around and wait for her. If TR does come back, I don't want her to be seen with the guy who threw a pok__é__ball in the leader dude's face and made him lose a hostage. __(The hostage __guy__'s name is Silver, in case you wanted to know. You might want to stay away from him.)_

_Anyway__, let me say it again: if you see something weird, tell me. __I'm worried about Lyra and I'm worried about you. Don't freak out—I'm worried about you in a completely un-creepy way, because I'm just that swell a guy._

_Keep an eye out,_

—_Gold_

Chris wasn't quite sure how to react to the note. Gold seemed pretty darn paranoid to her. But then again, it certainly wouldn't hurt to stay alert and be especially careful.

She just hoped it wouldn't prove to be necessary.

OoOoOoOoO

A/N So . . .what did you think? I seriously don't know whether to be pleased with this chapter or not. How about you? Reviews are really helpful. :)

Oh, question for all readers! You may know that, in HG/SS, the main character can receive an eevee from Bill in Goldenrod City. While it'll be some time before Gold gets there, I want your opinion. Do you want Gold to get an eevee when the time comes, or do you want me to just keep his team eevee-free? I know that eevee is a terribly overused thing in general, so if you don't want one in this story, please let me know. And if you do, please let me know!

Review? :D


	7. No One is Prepared

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.

A/N I know, I know. I've been gone awhile. But I have good reasons, seriously. Anyway, the new chapter . . . kinda sucks. But I tried to make it as good and un-lame as possible, and hey, it's the longest chapter yet! (Though, given the quality, I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.)

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

OoOoOoOoO

Chapter 7: No One is Prepared

Route 30, Lyra thought, was a really pleasant sort of place. It had nearly all you could want in a single Route, with all its sun and wind and sky and clouds and grass and trees and ponds and bushes and dirt and—

"Marill! You come back here!" Lyra called out, running after her wayward pokémon.

Marill had been very energetic pretty much all day. Lyra had been woken up earlier than she would have liked by him jumping all over her, clearly ready to start their morning. After she had gotten up and moving, he had skipped happily along next to her, saying his name over and over again in a tune to a song that she was pretty sure they'd heard on the radio recently. And then, just after Lyra had been thinking about stopping for lunch, Marill had apparently decided that they needed to pick up the pace, and was now racing down the trail, using his newly-learned Rollout. And he was fast.

"Hey, I'm serious! Marill!"

Maybe it was something in her tone of voice that did the trick, because Marill suddenly skidded to a halt and turned around. He gave her a slightly sheepish look, then shuffled back to her side. Lyra put her hands on her hips, and gazed disapprovingly down at him.

"Now see here, mister," she said sternly, "you can't just go running off without me."

Marill adopted a confused expression and stared at her with wide eyes. "Rill marill!" he said innocently.

Lyra furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure that I know what you said, and here's my answer for it: rolling counts as running."

Marill looked as though he disagreed with her. If he had eyebrows, he would have lifted one.

"Okay, fine, _I _count it as running." She pointed a finger at him. "And so will you, Smartypants."

Marill stomped a foot. "Mariiiiiiiiil!"

"Oh, don't give me that. Running all the time's not good for you. You might lose weight or something." Suddenly, Lyra looked thoughtful. "Now that I think about it," she said slowly, "a skinny marill would look really creepy."

Marill's expression went from pouty to horrified in an instant. "M-m-marill?" Clearly, he didn't find the idea of a thin marill attractive either. He looked beseechingly up at his trainer, and held up his tiny arms. "Rill!" he pleaded. The message was clear: _Carry me!_

Lyra wagged a finger at him. "Uh-uh. If you can run, you can walk too. It's about time you learn to—what's that?"

"Mar?" Marill turned in the direction Lyra was facing, and looked up.

Just above the treeline was a small, blurry shape—if Lyra held up her thumb, she could have blocked it out. It was quickly growing bigger and more defined as it approached them, however. As it got closer, Lyra recognized it as a herecross. It was moving fast—and heading straight towards them.

Lyra stood gaping at it for several moments before speaking. "Uh, you know what?" she said a little nervously. "We should probably run." And with that, she turned tail and sprinted away. Marill, not needing to be told twice, rolled after her.

OoOoOoOoO

_So, how long is it supposed to take before we reach Azalea Town? _Quilava asked, as she idly sniffed at a dandelion growing along the side of the trail.

Gold shrugged. _I don't know. We've been on Route 32 for what, a week? It's gonna be at least another week_ _before we even get to Union Cave. _He tilted his head thoughtfully. _Well, maybe a little less__. _He abruptly changed the subject. _We need another teammate, seriously._

Quilava looked a little miffed. _What's wrong with just me? I mean, it's not like I can't beat up anything that comes in our way. Another teammate, oh please. . . ._

Gold wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused at that. Quilava had grown up quite a bit during their journey, which wouldn't be a problem if it wasn't for her insistence that she was big and strong enough to defeat anything and everything, and a team of two was just fine with her, thank you very much.

_Oh come on. Company's good for you, and you're not gonna be able to—hold on one second._

He'd just gotten a text from Lyra. It was a very short message:

**are you there?**

A text like that was pretty unusual for her. She normally just gave some sort of friendly greeting, like 'Good morning,' or 'What's up?' Gold typed a quick message back:

**yep. hows it going?**

Her response came a little more slowly than his had:

**prof elms herecross is with me and he has a egg with him and he seems worried and people wont answer my texts and now im worried are you ok?**

Gold felt a little dizzy after reading that. He resisted the urge to text back and tell her that her sentence structure sucked, and instead just said:

**can you put it on video chat?**

_What's going on? _Quilava suddenly piped up.

_I'm not sure._

Lyra's face quickly appeared on his Pokégear's screen, looking distressed. "Are you okay?" she asked, holding her Pokégear at a far enough distance for her to sign clearly. "You're not hurt or anything, right?" She looked ready to cry.

_'I'm fine, everything's fine,' _he said reassuringly. _'What happened? And what do you mean, people won't answer your texts?'_

Lyra chewed her lip—a sure sign of stress. "When Herecross came here with the egg, he looked really worried, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I don't know what happened, and no one from home answered my calls or texts or voice messages or anything. My dad hasn't even answered, and he _never _ignores my calls."

_'Maybe you're just in a place with bad reception or something,' _Gold suggested, though he was frowning doubtfully.

"That wouldn't explain why Herecross is here!" Lyra replied, looking ready to burst into tears (Gold hoped she wouldn't do that). "And the reception here is fine! I'm talking to you right now, aren't I?"

Gold gritted his teeth and pressed his lips together in a firm line, thinking hard. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't received any calls from his mom today. Then again, she was getting pretty good at not calling until late afternoon. _'Okay, okay, let me try calling Mom,' _he said. _'No point getting worried about nothing. Just hold on a second.'_

He disconnected his call from Lyra and sent a brief **hi mom **text to his mother. He waited several seconds for a response.

Then a few more.

Then a couple more after that.

His mom was usually a lightning-fast responder to his texts . . . maybe a minute more. . . .

He was reaching the two-minute mark when Quilava made her impatience known. _Well, what's going on? Are we gonna get moving again or what?_

Gold didn't even bother to look up from the so-far message-less screen. _In a minute! I'm kind of dealing with something important right now._

_Well, how am I supposed to know that? You haven't told me anything, geez!_

Gold gave what he hoped sounded like a very exasperated sigh. _Okay, here's the deal. Herecross—__you __know, __the one from Professor Elm's lab—is with Lyra. __Lyra doesn't know why he's there, obviously, and she can't get in contact with anyone else._

_Oh. _Quilava tilted her head thoughtfully. _Maybe they're all busy._

Gold shook his head. _Lyra said no one would answer her calls. I don't know how many people she called, but they can't all be that busy at the same time._

_Why not?_

Gold sighed. _Just because. It would be weird._

_What kind of dumb reason is that? _Upon receiving no answer from Gold, she bumped her head against his leg in annoyance. _Did you even _ask _Herecross why he's there? He should know._

Gold stood still for a moment, then rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. _I didn't actually really think of that, _he admitted. _But hey, in my defense, I've never tried talking to a pok__é__mon on a screen before. It might not work._

Quilava rolled her eyes. _Well, that's what I'm here for, dummy._

Gold gave an exasperated huff. _Since when did you get to be such a smartass? _he asked, already calling back Lyra.

_Since I started spending time with you. You're a bad influence._

Before Gold could give a suitably snarky response, Lyra's face reappeared on the screen. "Have you heard from anyone yet?" she asked.

_'Not yet,' _he replied, _'but it's only been a few minutes. I wanted to try talking to Herecross, though._

Lyra smacked her forehead with her palm. "Oh yeah, duh. Okay, here he is."

She turned her Pokégear around to face the bug-type. Herecross gave Gold a wave, and Gold replied in kind. _'Hey Herecross, what's going on?'_

Gold wasn't sure if he had been understood. It certainly didn't seem so, because Herecross waited several moments before he began to speak, and when he did, it was with a somewhat questioning look on his face. Gold watched as the pokémon's mouth moved, but he couldn't get any meaning from what he was saying. Gold held up a finger, then turned to Quilava.

_It's not working. You talk to him. _He turned the Pokégear around so she could see the screen. Quilava looked at the screen and said something into it—what it was, Gold had no idea. After a moment, Quilava turned and gave him a deadpan look.

_There's no sound coming from it, _she said, looking quite unimpressed.

_What? Oh yeah, I guess not, _Gold said. _But don't give me that look! It's not like I would know that. Have patience with the deaf guy, okay? _he said as he fiddled with the contraption, trying to remember how to turn on the volume. After a moment, he turned the screen back towards his pokémon again. _Here, try this._

It had apparently worked, for Quilava quickly was able to get into what seemed to be a serious discussion with the other pokémon, judging from the expression on her face. It was pretty interesting to watch—every now and then, Quilava's eyes would widen with surprise, or her forehead would crinkle in confusion, or she would draw up her head in outrage. Finally, she turned back to Gold.

_We have a problem._

_What happened? _

_New Bark's been attacked._

No.

Gold's heart seemed to come to a stuttering halt, and he felt a painful tightening in his chest. _What!? How?_

_It's not as bad as you think! _Quilava hurried to add, not sure whether or not she was telling the truth. _Herecross says that most of them were leaving by the time he was getting out of there. _There. That didn't sound too bad, did it?

_Okay, how exactly is that not as bad as I thought? And who is 'them'? Team Rocket? _

_How should I know? _said Quilava impatiently._ It's not like Herecross would recognize them. And you'd better fill Lyra in with what's going on—she's probably dying with worry right now._

As she watched her trainer turn a delicate shade of gray, Quilava supposed that 'dying' was a bad word to use in this time and place. But luckily, Gold recovered quickly and turned back to the Pokégear's screen.

Quilava watched as her trainer made rapid gestures at the device, occasionally pausing to let Lyra speak. When Gold hung up about five minutes later, he let out a great sigh and wearily scrubbed at his face. Quilava rubbed her head on his leg in what she hoped was a comforting manner.

_So what happens now? _she asked.

Gold sighed again. _I don't know, _he confessed. _I told Lyra to call the police. She said she would call me back if she got any news of anything. I also told her about what happened in Violet City—she flipped out for not telling me about that earlier—and I told her to be careful about who she talks to. That's about all I can do, I guess._

Suddenly, Gold felt drained. He slowly lowered himself to the ground, wrapped his arms around his legs, and rested his head on his knees. _Gosh, I feel useless._

Quilava rubbed in head against Gold's arm in a comforting manner. _They'll be fine, Gold. Just think about Herecross. He got out of there without a scratch, and with an egg, too. Oh, and by the way, _she said, abruptly shifting the subject to safer waters, _the egg Herecross was carrying is __apparently__ the __same one that we got from Mr. Pok__é__mon. I wonder what it'll hatch into?_

Gold recognized a diversion tactic when he saw one, but he didn't complain. _I don't know, _he replied. _Something powerful, I hope. Seeing as Lyra's got it with her, maybe she'll get to keep it _(well, maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but he could hope, right?),_ and if she does, I don't want her having to waste her time taking care of something like, __I dunno,__ a magikarp. With the way things are going, she'll need all the protection she can get. We all will._

_Good point, _Quilava said, and Gold detected a somewhat grumpy undertone in her thoughts. _So let's hurry up and get a stupid teammate already._

Despite the situation, Gold almost smiled. _Oh, so now you want that teammate after all?_

Quilava nipped lightly at Gold's sleeve. _No, _she said tartly. _I'm just being kind and selfless and mindful __of your psychological well-being. So get up—I want to get this over with. _

OoOoOoOoO

It took a few minutes of standing still and staring at the blank screen for Lyra to get her brain in some degree of order. Her thoughts swirled around in her head, trying to make some connections.

First Violet City. Then New Bark Town. Where would they strike next?

Lyra suddenly felt a sharp tap on her thigh, and jumped back with a gasp—only to realize that it was just Herecross trying to get her attention.

"Oh, sorry. I'm a little jumpy right now, I guess. . . ." It suddenly occurred to her that, besides that one overreaction to Herecross's prodding, she felt unnaturally calm—though perhaps numb would be a better way to describe it. Maybe she was going into shock or something. Not that she knew what being in shock felt like. She rapidly shook her head, as though rattling her brain around would kick it into a higher gear.

"Okay, call the police, Gold said . . . I was going to do that anyway—it's like we're twins, you know," she said in a conversational tone, talking to no one in particular. "We can practically read each other's minds sometimes—some twins can do that, people say. But right, police. I'll call them."

Lyra should have known that things wouldn't go that smoothly—as soon as she'd dialed the first digit, her Pokégear abruptly shut down.

"Oh, don't tell me . . ." Lyra turned the gadget back on again, only for it to black out before she could make the call. "You're out of power? Why would you do that!?" she practically screamed into the Pokégear. She unstrapped it from her wrist and flung it into the woods, while the two pokémon watched in concern.

Lyra stood there for several moments, chest heaving. She closed her eyes and took deep, calming breaths, then slowly walked over to pick her Pokégear. The weirdly calm/numb feeling was quickly replacing her brief bout of anger, leaving her feeling cold.

"Well, guys," she said, "it looks like we can't contact anyone now. Not the police, not someone in New Bark, not Gold, not anyone. We're technologically screwed." She started to pace back and forth along the width of the path.

Marill stepped forward timidly. "Mar marill?" he asked hesitantly.

Lyra didn't stop her pacing, nor did she turn to look at her companion. "I'm not sure what we're going to do," she said, hoping that would answer whatever question Marill was asking. "I'm trying to come up with some sort of game plan." Suddenly, she whirled around to face Herecross, who was still clutching the egg.

"Hey, Herecross?" she asked, "are you able to carry a person when you fly? A person my size, maybe?"

"Cross!" he said imperiously, sounding slightly insulted. The answer was quite clear: _Well duh._

Lyra clapped her hands together and did a little hop. "Awesome! Okay, here's my idea. I take the egg from you, like so," she said, as Herecross allowed her to take his delicate cargo, "then you'll grab me around my middle, I guess, and we'll fly off to Violet City as fast as possible. We can get help there. And Marill," she said, as her pokémon stood at attention, "you have two options. You can either stay outside so I can carry you in one of my arms," (Marill didn't appear to like that idea), or you can go back in you're pokéball until we land." She pulled out the capsule from her pocket to show him.

Not needing time to think it over, Marill pointed to the pokéball and allowed himself to be withdrawn.

Lyra stuffed the ball back in her pocket. She held the egg snugly against her chest and nodded resolutely. "Ready whenever you are, Herecross."

The bug-type made a sound of acknowledgment, then came up behind Lyra and grabbed hold of her. Together, they shot up in the air and soared over the trees, heading to Violet City.

OoOoOoOoO

Walker Bertram prided himself in being able to keep calm and cool, no matter the crisis. Whether that crisis was a vicious battle against a merciless opponent, or being attacked by a crazed pokémon, or even seeing his hometown being invaded, he was always able to keep his thoughts clear, focused, and decisive.

Except for now.

It had been some two weeks after Falkner had been injured during the Team Rocket attack, and about a week since he had begun showing signs of consciousness. At first, he had only been able to stay semi-lucid for a few seconds at a time, and he had shown no recognition whatsoever of Walker or any of the nurses who came by periodically. Things had rapidly progressed after that. The tube in his throat had been removed—he was able to breath on his own now. Not long after that, he had become more alert, and had been able to recognize where he was, and had given a hoarse 'Hey Dad,' upon seeing his father.

Falkner, at the time, had been unable to remember what had happened, but the doctors had assured him and his father that post-traumatic amnesia was not uncommon. Whether or not Falkner would ever remember the incident had been uncertain, though he had been told that _not _remembering wouldn't hinder his recovery. Falkner had said quite flatly that he had every intention of recalling every single detail—he certainly wasn't about to forever forget about something as memorable as battling Team Rocket, and apparently putting up one hell of a fight.

But when the memories did come, they came with a vengeance. It had started with a simple 'Hey, I think I'm beginning to remember. . . .' and ended with what the doctors called a 'post-traumatic seizure' that left him unconscious for the next twelve hours.

To top that all off, Morty had called not long after that, reporting that, according to the visions he'd been having, there was going to be more Rocket activity very soon—when and where exactly, he didn't know.

So here Walker was again, sitting beside the bed, wishing he could do something—anything—to make this situation better. Falkner was awake now, looking uncharacteristically morose, staring distantly off into space. Neither one of them spoke.

Walker heard a soft tap at the door, and watched as a young nurse (Sheryl, according to her name tag) walked in. She looked a little apologetic. "I'm sorry to bother you two, but there's someone out here who says she has a pidgey from the Gym with her."

Falkner merely replied with a blank "Yeah, so?"

Walker shot him a mildly scolding look (which Falkner ignored entirely), then turned to the nurse. "Did she say why she was here? Or what her name was?"

"She says that the pidgey she brought with her wanted to come visit. She wouldn't give me a name. I can go ahead and send her away," she added quickly.

Walker sighed, then slowly rose to his feet, his joints creaking in protest. "No, it's fine. I'll see what she wants." If it wasn't important, he could just yell at the person and scare her away. That seemed like a good way to relieve stress, at any rate.

Sheryl nodded. "Right this way," she said, leading him out of the room. They entered the hallway, and she pointed to her right. "There she is."

OoOoOoOoO

"Yes, yes, yes! Here we are—we made it! Let's land over here, Herecross—no, here!—okay, have it your way . . . ah, sweet, sweet civilization!" Lyra slumped to the ground near the outskirts of Violet city, clutching the egg (no pun intended) to her chest, feeling far more tired than she really should have. Herecross, despite having done most of the work over the past several days, looked rather winded, but still quite capable of flying. Next to him, Lyra felt like a wimp.

"Cross?" The bug-type was looking at her with some concern—probably because she was now sprawled out on the grass, eyes closed.

"I'm all right, I just need to rest . . . it's way too early in the morning to be awake . . . I mean, come on, the sun isn't even up—" But then her eyes snapped open, and she let out gasp. "Wait, what am I saying? We need to see if everyone's okay!" She quickly hauled herself to her feet and half-ran, half-skipped her way towards the city. Herecross, cruising along a foot off the ground, followed along behind her.

By the time they actually got into the city, Lyra's strength was diminishing, and she reluctantly plunked herself down on a nearby bench to catch her breath a bit—and figure out where she was supposed to go. She let her eyes rove around the surrounding area, and hoped there was some sort of city map or helpful signs nearby. One of the buildings caught her attention.

Directly across from her, on the other side of the street, was the Violet City Gym. Lyra gazed at it with a sort of detached admiration for a few seconds before she noticed the scorch-marks on and around the walls, and remembered what had happened to it. She shivered.

"Hey, Herecross?" she asked. Do you know where some sort of police station would be? Or a pokémon center?" The bug-type lifted his clawed hands (his version of a shrug). "Okay . . . do you think you could scout for one? I'm kinda scared to ask some random person for directions," she confessed quietly. "I don't even see anyone around, anyway."

Herecross gave a sound of assent, but before he made to take off, he shot a pointed glance at her bag.

"What are you—oh yeah, Marill. Poor little guy, I forgot about him." She dug around in her bag for a moment, muttering something about needing to reorganize it, before pulling out the sought-after sphere. "Come on out, buddy."

Marill materialized in a flash of red light, gave a sound of greeting to his trainer, then hopped unceremoniously on the bench. "Mar mar?" he asked.

"Yeah, we're at Violet. Herecross is gonna look for somewhere to get help, and you're gonna be my bodyguard, okay?"

"Ma_rill_!" Her pokémon puffed out his chest and smiled confidently up at her, and Lyra couldn't help but smile back at him.

"That's my boy," she said warmly, rubbing the top of his head. "Okay, Herecross, whenever you're—waah!"

Something small and feathery had just shot past her head, knocking off her hat in the process. It was a good thing the bench had a back; otherwise, Lyra would have fallen off. Instead, she simply slammed her back, hard, into the wooden bench (that was going to leave a mark).

Marill made a sound of surprise, but when the thing came back for another go, he gave a squeaky war-cry and shot a powerful blast of water at it, knocking it out of the air and onto the ground. Before the thing had a chance to get up again, Herecross buzzed over and placed a restraining claw on top of it. The thing made a brief struggle, then let out a weak chirp and went limp.

Herecross released his hold on the attacker—which Lyra recognized as a pidgey—and backed off to let her take a closer look.

Lyra carefully placed the egg on the bench, then walked over and crouched down to study the sad sight before her. The pidgey was soaked to the skin, thanks to Marill, and some of its feathers were bent out of shape. It was also tiny—Lyra knew enough about pidgey to know that the average height of one was about a foot, and this specimen was half that size. The pitiful little bird gazed at Lyra blearily, and let out a soft—and ridiculously cute—cheep.

"Aw, sorry about that," Lyra said in a quiet voice, gently scooping up the pidgey and cradling it in her hands. "What are you doing out here all alone, you little cutie?" she asked, smiling kindly at the bird (as Marill made a gagging noise in the background).

The flying-type looked up at her with big, googly eyes (Lyra had to resist squealing from the adorableness), and replied with a couple of quiet chirps. Lyra looked at the other two pokémon questionably. "What did it say?"

Herecross raised his hand, apparently volunteering to interpret. After Lyra nodded in understanding, Herecross pointed to the pidgey.

"Um, okay, the pidgey . . . I'm just gonna call you Pidgey, okay?" Lyra said, and Pidgey nodded. "Good. So . . . Pidgey . . . wants?" she guessed, after Herecross clasped his hands together and made a pleading face.

Herecross nodded enthusiastically, then pointed to Lyra, Marill, and himself.

"Pidgey wants . . . us?"

Again, he nodded. He pointed to Pidgey, then mimed walking. He then pointed to the rest of them and repeated the action.

Lyra stared blankly at the bug-type for a moment before hesitantly guessing, "It wants us to walk . . . ? No, wait! Okay, you said Pidgey wants us, then you . . ." This was getting confusing. "Um, wait. Pidgey wants us to . . . let it walk? I don't get it—but wait!" Herecross made a 'go on' motion with his hand, and Lyra continued. "Then you pointed to us, and . . ." Then, a light bulb lit up in her head. "Does Pidgey want us to follow it?"

Marill jumped around happily while Herecross smiled and Pidgey chirped in approval. Lyra grinned triumphantly, but then frowned.

"Uh, hate to say this, but . . . we kinda need to go somewhere important right now and—" She stopped when Pidgey nodded quickly. Lyra tilted her head.

"Wait . . . so you want to go where we're going?"

Pidgey nodded. "Pidge pidgey."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you even _know _where we're planning to go?"

It nodded again, more eagerly this time. Lyra frowned.

"Were you _eavesdropping_?"

Pidgey gave a completely shameless nod, and waited patiently for a response.

". . .Well, at least you're honest, I guess," Lyra said, shrugging. "Okay, I guess we can do this." Lyra got up from her crouching position, keeping a firm hold on Pidgey. "This is what we're gonna do," she said in her most authoritative voice. "Pidgey, seeing as you're not exactly in any shape to fly, I'll just sorta hold you in front of me—hey, Herecross, can you carry the egg?—and you'll point your head in the direction we need to go. All righty?"

Pidgey gave one final nod, and then they were off, running down the conspicuously empty streets, Pidgey pointing its beak in whatever direction they needed to go. It didn't take long before they reached a pokémon center (and Lyra felt like both jumping for joy for finally getting there, and smacking herself when she realized that she had passed it not long after entering the city).

Lyra raced in almost before the automatic doors had time to open, and kept running until she skidded to a halt directly in front of the main desk, where a Nurse Joy looked at her with only the faintest bit of surprise.

"Hello there," the nurse said pleasantly. "Here to drop off your pokémon?" she asked, eying the ruffled-looking Pidgey, who was still in Lyra's hands.

"What? Um, well, this one's not mine. But I guess it could use some attention," she said rapidly, placing the flying-type on the desk. "I really really really need to make a call though, and I was wondering if there was a phone I could use somewhere, and maybe somewhere to charge my Pokégear, and do you know what happened in New Bark Town, and is everyone okay?"

Nurse Joy blinked, looking slightly lost, before she answered, "Oh, you must have just gotten here, haven't you? New Bark Town was attacked by Team Rocket—" Lyra let out a little squeak as her fears were confirmed, but Nurse Joy held up a hand before she could say anything, "—but no one was badly injured. Some things were stolen from the laboratory, and the town's power was out for a couple of days, but things are getting back to normal."

The nurse's voice was calm and level, and Lyra felt the tension finally leave her. "Thank goodness," she mumbled, and put her arms on the desk, burying her face in them.

"Miss? Can I take you somewhere to sit down?" Nurse Joy asked, giving her a concerned look.

Lyra's head snapped up. "No, I'm fine," she said hastily. "I still need to make some calls. So, about that phone . . ."

Fortunately, there was a videophone in a room next to the lobby, and Nurse Joy was happy to show her the way. After thanking the nurse heartily and settling herself in a chair (and letting Marill hop on her lap, while Pidgey perched on her shoulder and Herecross stood nearby), Lyra punched in the number to her dad's home phone, and waited.

A stout, balding, middle-aged man appeared on the screen a few seconds later. Upon seeing Lyra, his face lit up. "Lyra! What were you thinking, leaving your old man out in the cold and worrying him half to death?"

"Hi Daddy!" Lyra squealed, ignoring the question for the moment. "I was so worried about you! Is everyone okay?"

Her father held up his hands in front of himself, as if to ward off an attack. "Whoa! Slow down there, sweetheart." He smiled warmly, though tiredly. "Now I can finally relax—I've been trying to call you for the past two days."

Lyra hung her head. "Sorry, Dad," she said guiltily. "I, uh, kinda forgot to charge my Pokégear before I left home, so . . . yeah. But hey, I'm totally fine, safe here in Violet City, all that jazz."

Her dad pinched the bridge of his nose, before sighing and smiling ruefully. "I swear, Lyra, you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days. But I'm just glad you're okay. And now," he said sternly, "I want you to make sure your Pokégear's _fully charged _before you even think of leaving town. You got that, Missy?"

Lyra nodded vigorously, almost knocking poor Pidgey from its seat. "You got it! No leaving town until its recharged, got. Absolutely. I'll even stock up on supplies while I'm here."

"I certainly hope you were going to do that anyway," her dad said pointedly, and Lyra blushed. "But anyway," he said, "I see you've been busy—caught two pokémon already, eh?"

"Oh, no, these aren't mine. This is Professor Elm's Herecross; he flew over here with an egg—show him the egg, Herecross!—and then took me here. And I just met Pidgey today, and it showed us the way to the pokémon center. The end."

Her dad laughed. "That's quite the little story," he said, eyes twinkling. "You'll have to tell me more about it when you have the time."

"Yeah, I'll tell you all about it—oh wait!" Lyra said, eyes going wide. "How is everyone else doing over there?" she asked. "All I know is that Team Rocket pretty much came over, attacked the town, fried the electrical system, and ransacked the lab."

"We're all fine, for the most part. Professor Elm was in the lab when they came over—" Lyra gasped, and her dad held up a hand, "—but he's gonna be fine. Inhaled plenty of koffing smoke, but he's all right—just not allowed to run any marathons for the next few weeks." He smiled, and Lyra laughed weakly. "A couple of others got a few burns here and there, but nothing bad. Gold's mom is fine, before you ask," he said, just as Lyra opened her mouth to inquire about Mrs. Heart.

Lyra let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, good." Her eyes widened. "Oh, wait! Does Gold know about all this?"

Her dad nodded. "Sure does. His mom called him as soon as we got the power back, which was yesterday. He's pretty worried about you; he said he tried to call you, but you wouldn't pick up. He made a good guess as to why that was—turns out he guessed right," he said, looking slightly amused.

Lyra laughed a little sheepishly. "Ah, well . . ." she trailed off. "You know what, I'd better call him back now."

"All right, sweetheart. But one more thing," her dad said, looking at her sternly. Lyra gulped. "I don't want you to go back out into the wilderness until you get another pokémon." When Lyra made a sound of protest, he held up a hand to cut her off. "I don't know what's going on around with Team Rocket showing up out of the blue, but I need you to be able to protect yourself—which means getting more pokémon, and as soon as possible. You can't go traipsing around the region with just Marill."

The water-type made an insulted humphing sound, and Lyra looked displeased. "But what if I can't find a pokémon that I want? I'm gonna be stuck here forever."

"I don't know what else to tell you," her father said. "I'm not letting you go any farther unless you get at least one other pokémon. I'm sorry, Lyra, but you're just gonna have to take it or leave it."

Lyra sighed. "Okay, I'll take it," she said in resignation. "But only because you want me to, not because I don't think I can take care of myself."

"Good girl. You'll catch a pokémon in no time, you'll see."

"Yeah, I hope so. I'd better go call Gold now."

"Okay, sweetie, talk to you later. I love you."

"Love you, too. Bye."

Lyra pressed to 'end call' button, and the screen went black.

"Well, better see what Gold's up to," she muttered, already dialing her friend's number. Gold picked up almost instantly.

_'There_ _you are!' _he said. _'I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten about me. Or, you know, forgotten to charge your dang Pok__é__gear. _Though his words were sarcastic, his smile was genuine.

Lyra smiled back. "Don't worry, I didn't forget about you. Just the Pokégear," she said, confirming Gold's suspicions.

_'I knew it,' _he said, smiling triumphantly. _That's what I told your dad; that you forgot to make sure that your only means of contact with anyone had enough power. I've been lonely for the past few days, you know.'_

"You mean worried."

Gold pretended to be insulted. _'Who, me? My dear Lyra, the great Gold Heart does not get worried. By the way, who's your friend? _he asked, referring to Pidgey, who was still on Lyra's shoulder.

"Oh, this is Pidgey. I met this little guy—ow!" she squawked, more in surprise than in pain, when Pidgey suddenly pecked her ear. "What?" she asked. "Do you not like being called a little guy? Are you a girl?" When Pidgey nodded, Lyra turned back to the video screen. "Sorry about that—Pidgey was just letting me know that she's a girl, and doesn't appreciate being called a guy."

Gold smirked. _'Well, you wouldn't like someone assuming you __were__ a dude either.'_

"Good point. Anyway, long story short, she showed me the way to the pokémon center, though I'm not it was because she had something to do here, or because she wanted something in return." When Pidgey chirped in approval at her last words, Lyra sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, apparently it was the second one. I'm now officially beholden to a pidgey."

Gold grinned. _'Hold on one second,' _he said, and the screen briefly went blurry before Gold settled it on some sort of elevated area. _'There, now I can use both my hands. Anyway, congratulations on your unique predicament.'_

"Thanks," she said dryly, then switched to purely signing. _'What do you think she wants?' _Lyra asked.

Gold shrugged. _'She's pretty runty-looking—maybe she wants someone to help her get some food. Buy her a muffin or something.'_

Lyra laughed out loud. "Good idea. I'll do that." Then she thought of something. "Oh hey, have you gotten any new pokémon yet?"

_'I did—about five minutes after I last talked to you.'_

Lyra bounced up and down on her seat (startling Marill and Pidgey in the process), and clapped her hands. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let me see!" she demanded.

Gold grinned. _'I thought you'd never ask,' _he joked, then made a beckoning gesture to something off-screen. Almost instantly, a light-purple monkey-like creature climbed nimbly up to his shoulder and gave a friendly wave with one of its fingerless hands. _'Lyra, meet Aipom. He's a bit of a pain in the ass, but an all-round nice guy.'_

_'Language, Gold,' _she scolded him silently, though she was still smiling. Then she waved back to the newcomer. "Hi, Aipom! It's nice to meet you."

Aipom grinned widely and replied with a simple "Pom!" Lyra supposed that it meant something along the lines of 'Hello!'

_'Anyway,' _Gold said conversationally, _'we're __right outside the entrance of__ Union Cave now__.__ I'd send you pictures of the inside if I could, but whole 'I don't own a camera' thing kinda gets in the way of that.'_

Lyra smiled. "Oh well. At least I'll get to see it in real life pretty soon. How long is the cave, anyway?"

Gold tilted his head to the side and looked up slightly, clearly thinking. _'The tunnel that leads to Route 33 is about fifteen miles, I think. They say it's easy to get through, though, just as long as you don't take any sharp turns, so I'll be on the other side in no time,' _he said, looking supremely confident. _'Oh yeah, another thing. Before you skip town, make sure not to be dumb like me and forget to bring a flashlight.'_

"You don't have a flashlight?Oh, Gold!"

_'Hey, I have a fire-type with me, so I'll be fine,' _he assured her. _'You, on the other hand, have a blue bouncy-ball with fur.'_

Lyra rolled her eyes. "Aw, you're so mean. But not to worry—I was smart enough to bring a flashlight with me before I even left home."

_'In my defense, I don't even own a flashlight. Oh, by the way, did you know that in Kalos, they call that thing a "torch"? Now, when I think of a torch, I think of a great big stick with fire at the end of it. But not them, oh no; they don't even give their electrical 'torches' a different name—'_

"Hey," Lyra interrupted, "stop going off on a tangent. That's my job, silly."

_'Oh, good point—hey!' _Lyra watched in amusement as Aipom suddenly sprang off Gold's shoulder and disappeared from view. _'Well, it looks like Captain Curious wants to go exploring now, and Princess Impatience looks ready to get going, too. I'll see you later.'_

"Okay. Call me back when you're at Azalea."

_'Your wish is my command, milady,' _he replied, then gave her a bow.

"Very funny. I mean it, though."

_'I know, I know. Okay, I really have to go now; I can't even see Aipom anymore—I think he ran off into the cave. _He rolled his eyes._ You see what I have to deal with? A monkey with ADD.'_

Lyra laughed. "Okay, I'll let you go now. Bye."

_'Bye.' _

Lyra hung up for the second time, then let her head droop tiredly. "It's not even seven o' clock in the morning, and I'm already tired," she mumbled. "At least now I know for sure that everyone's okay, right?" she asked no one in particular.

Marill made a sound of agreement, then held out his arms to be picked up. Lyra rolled her eyes at his command, but nonetheless complied, and slowly got up and made her way out of the room at back to the main room. Nurse Joy smiled sympathetically when she saw Lyra's expression.

"Long morning?" she asked.

Lyra smiled ruefully. "More like long few days—but I think I can relax now."

"That's good to know. Tell you what—how about I take your pokémon and patch them up for you, then get you a room. You look like you could use a lie-in."

"Thank you, Nurse Joy. I really appreciate it," she said gratefully. "Come on guys, go with the nurse—go on, Pidgey—oh, fine. I guess Pidgey'll stay with me."

"All right—but make sure it doesn't exert itself for a while." She started to lead the others through a doorway behind the desk. "Feel free to sit down—I'll be back with the key to your room in a few minutes," she called back over her shoulder.

True to her word, the nurse quickly returned, room key in hand. "Here you go," she said, handing the card to Lyra. "There rooms are just over here." Nurse Joy directed her to a long hall lined with doors, and Lyra was quick to find her room and drop off her things.

She plopped down on the bed and place Pidgey in front of her. "Okay then," she said, "what can I do for you?" Remembering Gold's words, she asked, "Do you want food?"

Pidgey shook her head, but didn't elaborate.

"Okay . . . do you want me to take you somewhere?"

Pidgey cheeped, flapping her wings in approval.

Lyra grinned. "Yeah, second guess, not bad!" Then she frowned. "But listen here; I can't take just anywhere. It'd better be somewhere in this city, or I can't help you."

"Pidgey!" the flying-type said in an assuring manner, as if to say 'No problem; it's close by.'

"Okay then. Now come the hard part; figuring out where you want to go. I'm gonna assume it's somewhere you could fly to, or else you wouldn't have tried to get help." When Pidgey didn't argue, Lyra continued, "So is it some kind of building?"

"Gey!" _Yes! _she seemed to say.

Lyra grinned broadly. "I feel like a detective right now, kinda sorta. Okay, so what kind of building, I wonder? It's obviously not here, and I don't think you'd want to go to, say, a market. So let me think . . . is it a hospital?"

The pidgey nodded vigorously.

"Wow, first guess!" Lyra almost shouted, pumping her fist. "So I guess you want to visit someone there? Like a patient?"

Another nod.

"Nice, I'm getting good at this . . . but how am I supposed to know who you want to see?"

Pidgey hopped across the bed, then half-flew, half-jumped over to the room's single window and latched onto the curtain with her claws. Her eyes scanned the area outside briefly, then she looked at Lyra, waiting for her to come over.

Lyra hopped off the bed and strode quickly over to the widow, and Pidgey looked pointedly at a certain building in the distance.

"What are you looking at? Sprout Tower?

Pidgey shook her head no.

"Are you even looking at a building? Yes? All right, is it a small one?"

Head shake.

"Is it the Gym? Do you live there?"

Pidgey chirped happily, an obvious 'yes' to both questions.

"Now that wasn't too hard, was it?" Lyra said, smiling triumphantly. "So you want to see someone who works in the Gym—wait." She eyed Pidgey warily. "Please don't tell me the person you want to see is the Gym Leader."

When Pidgey nodded, Lyra clapped a hand over her eyes and groaned. "Now how am I supposed to get permission to take you see Falkner, of all people? People will think I'm either a stalkerish fangirl, or some wannabe spy." When Pidgey looked at her pleadingly, Lyra sighed in resignation. "All right, all right! I'll see what I can do. Don't expect any miracles, though. . . ."

OoOoOoOoO

Two hours later, after making her way to the city's only hospital, getting yelled at by several of the staff, and surviving an incident involving cleaning supplies and air vents and multiple potted plants (don't ask), Lyra found herself sitting against the wall of one of the hospital's many hallways, waiting to see if Pidgey would finally get her wish to see the Gym Leader.

"Okay, listen up," she told the bird, who was currently sitting on one of her bent knees, "if Falkner won't let you in, there's nothing I can do. Probably the only reason they haven't kicked me out yet is because we both look like pitiful little orphans." When Pidgey made a somewhat hurt sound, Lyra just shrugged. "It's true, you know."

Suddenly, in her peripheral vision, Lyra spotted two figures; one of them was the nurse who had taken pity on her and had let her wait in the hall, and the other was a taller figure she didn't recognize (then again, she _was _looking out of the corner of her eye). She distinctly heard the nurse say, "There she is," and then she watched (still not directly looking), as the unknown person walked over to her and stopped several feet away.

"Well?" the figure asked with mild impatience, and Lyra finally allowed herself to turn her head and look up at him.

Standing before her was a man who looked vaguely familiar, though Lyra wasn't sure why. Though his body looked lithe and powerful, his lined, weather-beaten face told her that he was in his early fifties at least. His mostly straw-colored hair was lightly sprinkled with gray, and his sharp, sky-blue eyes were looking at her with an impatient, yet slightly studious expression. He was honestly rather intimidating.

Lyra opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She coughed slightly, then tried again. "She wanted to see Falkner," Lyra managed to say, and gestured to Pidgey. "You're not Falkner, though."

The man look at her with an expression that clearly said, 'You've got to be kidding me.' But then he simply sighed wearily and scrubbed at his face with his hands. "Look, kid," he said tiredly, "you can't just come into a busy hospital and expect people to allow you to bring in some random pokémon for a visit."

"I know!" Lyra said quickly, before the man had a chance to say anything further. "But I had to try. This pidgey is from the Gym, and she was worried about Falkner. I promised her I would try to help her out. What else was I supposed to do?"

If the man had been, say, a teenager, he probably would have said something along the lines of, 'You're an idiot.' "Maybe you could have done the sensible thing and not come at all," the man replied, though without any real heat.

Lyra carefully placed Pidgey on her shoulder, and got to her feet and stood at her full height (of four feet, eleven inches). "A promise is a promise," she said firmly. "When I make a promise, I keep it. It's what you're supposed to do."

The man almost looked like he was going to smile (not that Lyra saw anything amusing about what she'd just said). "All right, kid," he said, "here's the deal. I'm not going to let you or your pidgey in Falkner's room, but I _will _have you know that he's gonna be fine."

Lyra turned towards the pidgey. "Is that good enough for you?" she asked, and Pidgey nodded, though a bit unhappily.

The man smiled. "Good. Now you and your pidgey better get on home."

Lyra shook her head. "I'm not from around here," she said, "and Pidgey's not actually mine."

The man stared at her for a moment. "Really? I assumed you were a Gym trainer."

"Nope. Just a regular trainer—I'm just starting out. And Pidgey showed me the way to the pokémon center, so I was returning the favor by bringing her here."

The man stared at her for a moment more before shaking his head sadly. "Listen kid," he said, "I hate to have to tell you this, but with the whole Team Rocket fiasco going on, now isn't exactly the best time to start being a trainer." He held up a hand to stop Lyra from interrupting. "Just hear me out, okay? Team Rocket is an incredibly powerful organization—they've killed tens of thousands of innocent people. They don't care who they hurt—they don't care if you're a man or a woman or a child, or whether or not you have pokémon. If they find you, and you're in their way, they won't hesitate to kill you."

Lyra felt a little sick. "But . . . if they don't care whether or not you have pokémon with you, why does it matter if I'm a trainer? Wouldn't I just be better protected that way?"

He shook his head. "Not necessarily. Like I said, they'll kill you if you get in their way. If you're a traveling trainer, you're more likely to get in the way."

"I'm not dumb—I know how to stay out of trouble."

The man sighed wearily. "Do you have any family?" he asked abruptly.

Lyra was confused by the sudden change in subject, but answered anyway. "Well, yeah. I have a dad and two grandparents."

"And how do you think they would feel if something happened to you?"

Lyra inwardly flinched. "They . . . they would be really sad. . . ."

"They would be more than sad," the man said, looking pained. "They would be devastated. The loss of a child is the _worst _kind of loss you can possibly experience—it's . . . unimaginable."

Suddenly, the man looked very old, and very, very tired. "I have a son," he said softly. "And guess what? He's not only an adult, but an extremely powerful trainer. When Team Rocket attacked this place, _he _wasn't even safe from them—he was badly injured. For a while, I thought I was going to lose my only son forever."

The man paused for a few moments to let that all sink in. Lyra was shaking. "So . . . what you're saying is . . . is that I should go back home."

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

Lyra fought off the stupid urge to cry. "B-but . . . I talked to my dad this morning. He didn't say I had to go home. Don't you think he would tell me to if he thought I'd be safer?"

"Maybe your dad doesn't understand the gravity of the situation."

Lyra stomped her foot. "Well, maybe he does!" That sounded lame, but Lyra had never really been one for good comebacks. "What the _heck—_" ooh, bad word,"—do you know? Maybe I'm better off _away _from home. My hometown doesn't exactly have top-level security, you know."

"Kid, I don't even know where you come from," the man said flatly.

Lyra rolled her eyes dramatically, as though he should have known. "I'm from New Bark Town—you know, the teeny-tiny little town that wouldn't even be on a map if it weren't for the Elm Laboratory? The one where nobody has any strong pokémon to defend themselves with?"

The man rubbed the bridge of his nose. "All right, kid, all right," he said. "I can't make you go home. But," he said sternly, giving her a sharp look, "you need to be careful. This isn't some video game where can start over if you screw up, you got it?"

Lyra nodded. "Got it." She was already well aware of that, but she wasn't about to argue with some guy who was obviously trying to be a Good Samaritan.

The man ran a hand through his hair. He looked to be preparing himself for what Lyra liked to call 'Lecture Mode.'

"Okay kid, you listen, and you listen good. If you're going to do the fool thing and keep going with your little journey," (Lyra felt a little insulted at what her grand adventure was being referred to), "take some advice from me. First of all," he said, holding up one finger, "train whatever pokémon you have as much as possible—and I'm talking about hours a day sort of training. Get a training guidebook if you don't already have one."

Lyra nodded vigorously. "Okay, train like my life depends on it, got it. I can do that."

"You'd better. Also," he continued, "get a full party of pokémon. The sooner, the better. Don't refuse to fill up your team just because you can't find anything cute."

Lyra gave the man her most disdainful look. "Just how stupid would someone have to be to only get cute pokémon?"

The man smiled slightly. "You'd be surprised. And speaking of appearances . . ." he gave Lyra serious look. "Don't trust anyone you don't know, no matter how friendly or nice they seem."

"Duh," Lyra deadpanned. "That's the first thing parents tell their kids when they're talking about strangers."

"Good to know. Also—and this is pretty damn important, for girls especially—don't wear something that's gonna get any sort of attention. "What you have on is fine," he said, referring to her jeans and tee-shirt. "Nothing too—"

"Provocative?" Lyra suggested.

"Yes."

Lyra chewed her lip. "In other words, try not to attract rapists."

"Exactly. There are a lotta sickos out there, and you can't be too careful."

"Yeah . . . anything else?"

"Well . . . aw, screw it." The man reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and silvery. "Take this," he said, placing the object on Lyra's open palm."

Lyra looked at the chilly piece of metal in her hand, then looked back up at the man. "This is the Zephyr Badge," she said blankly.

"That it is. Trust me, the more Badges a trainer has, the better. People'll take you more seriously that way, and if you have enough Badges, you'll have more access to certain pokémart items."

Lyra shifted her weight from one foot to another. "But . . . don't I have to get this from the Gym Leader himself?"

"Consider it an award for going above and beyond the call of duty," he said, looking pointedly at Pidgey, "in helping a fellow citizen in need. And as for earning it from from the Gym Leader, well, you'll just have to settle for the retired one."

Lyra nodded, not really taking it in. "Uh, well, I guess that's okay then—hey!" She pointed at the man accusingly. "I know who you are! You're Falkner's dad! You're Strider!"

"Indeed I—whoa, hold on a second." The man looked at her with thinly-veiled disbelief. "'Strider'?" It looked like he was trying hard not to roll his eyes. "I believe you mean 'Walker'."

"Oh, right, sorry. I knew it had something to do with walking. . . ." Then she cleared her throat. "Well, I hate to be . . . abrupt, but I'd better go before someone kicks me out. I'm already hiding from at least four staff," she said in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

Before Walker could give a suitable response, Pidgey let out several cheeps in his direction. Walker raised his eyebrows. "You don't need my permission," he said, looking slightly amused. "Ask her."

Lyra stared at Walker with huge eyes. "You can understand her? What did she say?"

Walker smiled slightly. "Apparently, the little bird wants to go with you."

Lyra's face split into a wide grin. "Really?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached to her shoulder and plucked the flying-type off. She fixed the bird, now perched delicately on her hand, with a serious gaze. "Now Pidgey," she said solemnly, "before I accept your offer, you have to be aware of the danger, and, uh . . . gosh, I wish I had a script or something." She sighed. "I kinda wanted this to be more formal, you know? But oh well, I guess. Yeah, you can come, as long as you're aware of safety hazards and stuff."

Pidgey, to her credit, nodded her agreement in a very dignified fashion, then proudly puffed out her tiny chest.

Lyra smiled in satisfaction, then turned to Walker. "Thanks for the Badge and stuff, Mr. Walker, sir." She shuffled her feet slightly. "I hope your son gets better soon," she said quietly.

Walker smiled, though his eyes were sad. "Thanks, kid," he said. "Now get going—you got some training to do. Watch your back."

Lyra nodded. "Yessir, will do." Then she smiled, and with that, skipped her way down the hall and out of sight, shredding any possible dignity of her departure to pieces.

Walker chuckled slightly as he watched her leave, but after she was out of sight, his smile dropped, and he sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day. "Good luck, kid," he muttered. "Arceus knows you're gonna need it."

OoOoOoOoO

Union Cave, Gold found, was not a pleasant sort of place to be. Most people would agree, though they would probably have different opinions about what its worst feature was.

Some would say that the worst part was the cold, and Gold would almost be inclined to agree with them. It was, after all, refrigerator-temperature in here, and after less than halfway through, Gold's fingers had lost almost all their feeling.

Some people would probably say that it was the dampness. And, really, after slipping and sliding around for a while, trying not to fall into the cave's many water-filled indentations, Gold could understand that, too. But if he had to pick _his _least favorite aspect, the choice would have been obvious.

The dark.

To put it plainly, he was afraid of the dark. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had no sense of hearing to fall back on if his sight was robbed of him. Maybe it was due to some childhood trauma he had long since forgotten. Or maybe he was just a wimp.

Whatever the reason, it was making it awfully hard to keep calm and focused, despite Quilava's fire to lead the way, and Aipom (who was currently riding on Gold's backpack) assuring him that he'd listen for any sign of danger.

_Dude, you're not looking too good, _Aipom pointed out, not without some concern.

_I'm fine,_ Gold replied shortly. _Just keep an ear out for anything suspicious, and who knows, we might make it out alive._

_Hey, you can count on me, bro, _Aipom said confidently. _I wouldn't let anything happen to you—you're my best friend! _Gold didn't have to look at him to know that Aipom was smiling at him adoringly.

Aipom had become a part of the team in a rather . . . interesting way. Right after Quilava had reluctantly agreed to getting a new teammate, she had marched into the brush, Gold trailing behind her, and (as she told him later) called around for any pokémon that would be willing to embark on an 'epic and dangerous' adventure with them. Less than a minute later, Aipom had appeared.

Before either Gold or Quilava could say anything, Aipom had launched into an enthusiastic explanation of why exactly they should put him on their team, and how hardworking and useful he would be. When Gold had told him to just shut up and battle, the normal-type had paused in surprise for a brief second, then jumped around excitedly, proclaiming that he wouldn't disappoint him.

The following battle had been less than impressive—Quilava had far outclassed Aipom in terms of both strength and skill, so the match hadn't lasted long—but it _had_ been intriguing. Aipom had used only two different attacks during the course of the battle, and they had both been moves that Gold had never seen a wild pokémon use before—Thunderbolt and Shadow Ball. That had interested Gold enough for him to decide to toss the pokéball. After Aipom had been sucked inside, the ball hadn't wriggled once before signaling a successful capture.

Since then, Aipom had been willing and eager to do whatever Gold requested of him, which mostly consisted of luring wild pokémon over to battle with. Gold had quickly come to the unpleasant conclusion that not only was Aipom a weak battler, but a lousy strategist as well; Gold had been forced to tell him what to to in every detail, from when and how to dodge (_Like right now? Okay, d__uck or jump?_) to what way to use his moves (_Wait, like wide range, or—ow! He bit me!_).

After that, Gold had decided to refrain from using his new partner in any more battles until they reached Azalea. Not that Aipom was completely useless; he was good at collecting kindling for a campfire, and, as of today, he was assigned to be Gold's hearing aid while they trekked through the cave.

_Quilava, _he called out to the pokémon several meters in front of him, _you doing okay?_

_Yeah, I am; just like I was five minutes ago when you asked, and five minutes before that, and five minutes before that. _Gold imagined she probably rolled her eyes. _You know, _you're_ the one you should be worried about, with all your—_

She paused abruptly, and before Gold could ask her what was wrong, the flames on her head went out, and the three of them were plunged into total darkness. Gold, having lost his most useful sense, immediately felt his heart rate pick up.

_Quilava? What happened?_

To his relief, she answered quickly. _I'm fine! Aipom said he heard something, so I turned out the lights._

In any other situation, Gold would have laughed at her wording, but now wasn't the time. _Aipom? You said you heard something?_

_Yeah, footsteps, way behind us, but they're coming closer—_

_Gold, _Quilava interrupted, _tell Aipom to shut up; he's talking out loud._

_Aipom, shut up. Just talk to me in your head._

Aipom paused. _Wait, _he said slowly,_ so if I just _think _at you, you know what I'm saying? You're so cool!_

_Yeah, yeah, not the time for that right now, _Gold replied, feeling his pulse go even higher. _We need to hide somewhere—let's try to get over to a wall._

With much difficulty, the team made it to one of the craggy walls and hid behind a group of stalactites. With his back pressed up against the wall, Gold thought he could feel slight vibrations. Whether they were from the upcoming intruders, or something else entirely, Gold had no idea. _Can you still hear them? _he asked Aipom.

_Yeah, they're getting louder—oh, look!_

Gold was about to ask, _Look where? _but it turned out he didn't need to. Off to his left, in the direction they had just come from, he could see a steadily growing light, and with it came a dozen dark figures, coming closer every second.

Gold and his pokémon pressed themselves harder against the wall, as though that would help keep them hidden from view. Gold drew his knees to his chest, and put an arm around Quilava, while Aipom clung tightly to his other arm. _Don't move, _he ordered them.

Then the light was upon them, and they watched as the figures passed by. Gold barely dared to breath as he watched them, hoping against hope that they wouldn't be seen.

Gold didn't know if he or one of his pokémon made some sort of noise, or if it was just a coincidence, but one of the men in the back of the crowed suddenly turned in their direction. Gold stopped breathing altogether.

The following seconds passed by like hours, and no one moved. Then, against all odds, the man simply turned and walked away. Gold still didn't relax, though. His formerly aching chest was now burning fiercely, and he was trying hard not to hyperventilate. For in the brief time the man had been turned towards them, Gold recognized something.

Stitched in the front of his jacket, standing in startling contrast to the black background, was the Team Rocket symbol.

OoOoOoOoOoO

A/N Dun dun dun! It looks like Gold's troubles aren't over yet. Poor guy.

Anyway, I'm going to answer a few questions you guys might have, before you have to ask them:

Q: Why didn't anyone from New Bark contact someone with mobile devices?

A: The Rockets clearly wanted the people to be without help for as long as possible. I would put it past them to go into each building and destroy all things electrical.

Q: Okay, but how did they take out the power in the first place?

A: This is Team Rocket we're talking about. They know how to do a lot of stuff.

Q: Why did Walker give advice—and a Badge—to Lyra, a girl he had just met?

A: Simple. Because she was there, and he could. He's, as Gold would put it, 'just that swell a guy.'

Q: What's with the pidgey?

A: Lyra needed another pokémon, and this seemed like an interesting way to aquire one. And btw, for those who might have guessed, yes, the Pidgey is the same one who Quilava rescued from the fire, and was also the one who went to alert Noctowl in the previous chapter.

Q: Why was Gold so afraid of Team Rocket before he could even tell who they were?

A: Gold's obviously not of fan of the dark, so if he's under that much stress, he's not going to think clearly. His pokémon also picked up on his anxiety, and responded accordingly.

Q: Why is this chapter so cheesy, and why is the flow so bad?

A: Because I suck. Sorry.

Anyway, I hoped you derived some pleasure from this chapter. If you have any sort of feedback, or any questions, please review (and remember, I accept anonymous ones, too)!


	8. No One Can Find Them

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.

A/N Hi guys, and sorry for the long wait between updates. :( I've just been a little tied up with random happenings. But anyway, here I am again, bringing you another chapter! :D I had a lot of trouble with this chapter, for some reason—though I guess I say that every time I update, haha. Seriously, though, this thing was a monster to write and edit. If you saw the original version of this, you would throw up, it was so bad. xD (Then again, so are all my other chapters before I edit the heck out of them.) Okay, this Author's Note is getting long, so Imma go ahead and let you read the chapter now.

OoOoOoOoO

Chapter 8: No One Can Find Them

Gold hardly dared to so much as blink as the Rocket group slowly disappeared deep into the cave. Neither he nor his companions moved an inch. They simply waited in the darkness, hoping that the Rockets wouldn't come back.

Ten minutes passed before anyone spoke.

_Gold? _Quilava asked. _Are we safe yet? _She was still pressed firmly against Gold's side, and seemed disinclined to move. Gold supposed that she was thinking about their last Rocket experience.

_Probably, _Gold said, trying to act cool and confident. It really wasn't too hard; with the Rockets showing no sign of reappearing, he felt almost calm. Or maybe it was just the near-freezing temperature getting to him at last. Either way, he supposed, it was probably a good idea to get moving again.

His pokémon shifted around uneasily as Gold, with some difficulty, got to his feet. _All right, guys, _he said, _let's get moving. Quilava, lights._

Gold lifted a hand to cover his eyes as Quilava reignited her flames. As he stood there for several long moments, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the brightness, he tried to come up with some sort of emergency plan.

If they were unlucky enough to be detected by the Rockets while they were still in the cave, what the heck were they going to do? Run like hell? Charge bravely forward with guns blazing? Play dead? (That last thought almost made him laugh.) He'd just have to improvise, he supposed. Gold released a soft sigh of resignation as he lowered his hand to unblock his eyes.

_Let's go, _he said shortly, as he slowly started to walk forwards, keeping one hand on the wall of the cave as he went along. Aipom suddenly spoke up.

_Hey bro? _he asked. _Who were those guys? Are we gonna be okay? _Gold noticed that the normal-type was shivering—whether with cold or fear, he didn't know.

_We'll be fine, _he replied, trying to sound calm and cheery for Aipom's sake. _What, do you think we _wouldn't _be okay with yours truly under command?_

Though it was intended as sort of a joke, Aipom clearly took it very seriously. _What? No! _he replied, sounding highly scandalized. _I'd never doubt you, bro! __The cave's just, __uh__, making me think __funny__. Uh, yeah, sorry! Of course we'll be okay! _he stammered.

_Geesh, calm down, Aipom,_ Gold said, rolling his eyes. _It was a joke—I'm not that easy to offend._

_Oh, okay, sorry!_

Gold felt like banging his head against the wall. Aipom seemed to have a great fear of offending anyone—well, Gold and Quilava at any rate. _It's fine, Aipom, _he said. _Now . . . do you know anything about a group called Team Rocket?_

There was a short pause as Aipom apparently mulled it over. Finally he said, _I don't think so. __Are they bad guys? What do they do?_

_Yeah, they're bad. They do a bunch of nasty stuff, like stealing stuff and killing people. _That description of Team Rocket was rather abbreviated, to say the least, and sounded lame (again, to say the least), but Gold didn't feel like trying to come up with anything better, so he left it at that.

Aipom didn't seem entirely satisfied. _Why do they do a bunch of nasty stuff, like stealing things and killing people? _he asked guilelessly.

_I'll explain later, _Gold said briefly, trying to concentrate on keeping his footing. _Hey, Quilava? You okay up there?_

_Yeah, fine. How far do we have to go until we're out of this place, anyway? I'm sick of all this stupid water._

Gold thought it over for a minute. _I don't really know, _he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

_Wow, you're useful._

_Good to know you have such a high opinion of me, _Gold shot back sarcastically.

There was a short pause before Quilava spoke up again. _I'm sorry, Gold, _she said apologetically. _I just want to get out of here, and, I don't know, never have to see Team Rocket__again. But I guess that's just wishful thinking, isn't it?_

Gold sighed. _I don't know,_ he said. _Team Rocket's pretty unpredictable. _(Well, wasn't that the understatement of the century.)_ But let's just forget about them for right now, and concentrate on getting out of here. Trust me, I don't like this place any more than you do._

As it turned out, 'getting out of here' was easier said than done. The dark was still oppressing as ever, and Gold found it hard to keep focused when it seemed like something was going to jump out and attack them at any second. It didn't help that the floor was getting more and more uneven as they went on. Gold ended up falling on several occasions, leaving his knees bruised and his palms bleeding.

He wasn't sure how long they went on like this, but it was long enough for the fear of the Rockets to fade a little and for him to decide to take a break.

_Let's just rest here for a moment, _he said, sinking slowly onto the ground.

The walls and floor of the cave, Gold noted, were even colder than the surrounding air. It actually felt kind of nice against his back, he though. He closed his eyes, trying to relax.

He wasn't aware he had fallen asleep until he felt something lightly nudge his face—Aipom was trying to get his attention. _Bro? Are you okay? _he asked hesitantly.

Gold opened his eyes and glanced at Aipom in mild annoyance. _Yeah, fine. Why?_

_Because we've been sitting here for fifteen minutes, and you haven't moved the whole time, _Quilava informed him.

Gold gave a sigh of irritation. _That's because I was sleeping._

_Is it a good idea to sleep in a cold cave? _Aipom asked.

_Probably not,_ Gold admitted. _We should probably get going again, I guess—just give me a minute, though._ He closed his eyes again.

_Gold! _Quilava said sharply. _Wake up and get up. You're going to freeze to death._

Gold opened his eyes again and gave his starter a deadpan look. _Do I look asleep to you? Or frozen?_

_Not exactly. Kinda sorta. _Quilava paused. _I'm worried about you, though, _she said, nudging his arm with her nose._ Come on—let's just leave. _She turned away and began to slowly walk off.

_Hey, _Gold said, _don't go running off without me. _He still made no effort to rise, and only shifted a little in his spot. It was then that he noticed his legs were getting numb.

But he didn't have time to wonder about how bad that was, because Quilava's flames suddenly went out again.

Gold abruptly straightened up, feeling his vertebrae crack painfully. Aipom jumped slightly and clutched at Gold's jacket.

_Quilava? _Gold called out hesitantly.

As before, Quilava was quick to respond. _I'm fine. So, are you gonna get up or what?_

The hell? Gold gritted his teeth and took several deep, deliberate breaths. _Why did you put your flames out? _

_Because I felt like it. _

_What kind of stupid answer is that?_ _How the hell are we supposed to go anywhere without any light?_

_You don't need any light to get up, _Quilava reasoned.

_Dammit, Quilava! _Gold snapped._ Just turn on the lights!_

_I will once you get up, _Quilava said, sounding infuriatingly calm.

Snarling, Gold abruptly heaved himself to his feet again, while Aipom clung tightly to his shoulder. _All right, I'm up! Now__turn on the damn lights!_

Quilava, as promised, reignited her flames. Gold let out a harsh, shaky breath, and leaned against the wall of the cave. _What the hell_ _was that about?_ _Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?_

_No!_ _I was just making you get up. That seemed like the best way to do it._

Gold rolled his eyes. _You weren't wrong, _he said tiredly, feeling his anger fade away. _But if you ever do __that again, I'm gonna die just to spite you._

_Noted. __Now let's go. _Quilava set off again, and Gold slowly followed.

. . . Wait, wasn't _he_ supposed to be the team leader? It was his job to make traveling decisions, wasn't it?

Ugh, whatever.

After what felt like hours of walking, Gold saw a faint light far ahead of them.

They had found the end of the cave.

_Yes! Yes! Freedom! _Gold began to walk faster when his feet reached less slippery ground. _Quilava, speed up a bit._

Quilava picked up the pace, moving at a fast trot. The cave soon became bright enough for everyone to see clearly without Quilava's fire, and warm enough to defrost them (well, Gold and Aipom at least—Quilava never seemed to get cold in the first place).

_Yay! We did it, bro! _Aipom cheered._ We make a great team, don't we?_

Gold let out a weak laugh. _Yeah, I guess so. __Now hold on a second while I send a text. _He typed out a quick **out of the cave now **to Lyra, who promptly responded with **that took a while :P**. Gold snorted and rolled his eyes. He'd get her back for that—later.

_Okay team, let's__ get to Azalea __before__—hey, wait. _He stopped walking, and sniffed at the air._ Is that rain?_

Indeed it was, much to Gold displeasure. As they reached the mouth of the cave, he got a nice sight of the downpour outside. They would get soaked in minutes once they got out there, which really sucked, seeing as, according to the Pokégear's map, Azalea Town was a mile away. Okay, so that really wasn't much, but Gold didn't see why people just couldn't build the city closer to the cave. Quite ridiculous, he thought.

_So, _said Quilava nonchalantly, _we going out there or what? _While her words and tone were casual, her expression was quite disgruntled. Gold, taking pity on her, took out her pokeball from his backpack.

_Yeah, but you can go back inside, _he said, holding out the ball. _There's no need for you to get wet, too._

_Nah, I'm fine, _she said dismissively.

Gold raised an eyebrow. _Are you sure? _he asked. _I thought fire-types hated water._

_Well, we're not exactly big fans of it, but I'm not gonna wuss out over some rain. _Someone _needs to make sure no one beats us up, and, no offense to Aipom, I'm the only one who can really do that._

If Gold had functioning ears, he would have heard Aipom make a sad whimpering noise. _I'm not _that_ bad, _Aipom protested._ I know all these cool moves. . . ._

It took a few minutes of arguing and discussing, but it was eventually settled that both pokemon would stay outside, and that everyone would assume the roles they had on the cave—Gold was the guide, Aipom was the sound alert system, and Quilava was the bodyguard.

Traveling in rain, Gold found, was not a pleasant experience in the least. Not only did it feel like he was walking under a waterfall, but it was stupidly windy, and he had to squint to keep the water from blowing into his eyes.

His pokémon weren't doing much better—Aipom, who was shivering badly, had his little arms wrapped tightly around Gold's neck, and Quilava was obviously not pleased with how soaked her fur was getting.

_Not much longer, guys, _Gold said. Despite being cold, wet, and thoroughly exhausted, he felt almost cheerful at the thought of reaching suitable shelter. He was determined to get straight to a pokémon center, get a room, then fall asleep. He didn't care that it wasn't even seven o' clock in the evening—it wasn't like there would be anything else to do tonight, anyway.

But wait, he still had to report to the police and tell them about his Rocket sighting. How bothersome. Maybe he could just tell the first person he came across about the incident, then get _them _to find the police.

Speaking of people . . .

_Hey, there's someone up ahead! _Gold said, pointing out the stranger about a hundred feet from them. Whoever that person was, he was sure that they could help.

. . . Now that he thought about it, though, Gold was beginning to feel doubtful of his own judgment. Since when had he been so trusting of complete strangers? And, as he got closer, he could tell that the person was a tallish man wearing a black raincoat over his equally dark clothes.

Gold, for the most part, wasn't particularly fond of grown people of his own gender, particularly the shady-looking ones. He didn't know what it was, but there was something about men in general that gave Gold the impression that they wanted to mug him or something. So it was with some amount of surprise that he found himself walking fearlessly up to the stranger.

It wasn't until Gold was practically an arm's length away that the man noticed him, and before Gold could come up with some way to communicate his intentions quickly and effectively, the man held up his hand in front of him in a 'stay back' sort of gesture. Then he started to speak.

Now, Gold couldn't tell exactly what the guy was saying (in fact, he could hardly understand him at all), he thought he saw him say something along the lines of 'unsafe to go in there'.

Go in where? Gold looked past the man and saw a large indentation of sorts in the ground, and in the middle of it, what appeared to be a well.

Okay . . . why the hell would he want to go in there?

Suddenly, the man came closer to him and had the audacity to actually start physically pushing him back. Gold nearly tripped backwards in surprise, and angrily batted away the creep's arm. Quilava, who was standing next to him at the time, immediately reacted with far more aggression, jumping in front of her trainer, head and tail ignited. The message was clear: _Back off or get burned._

The man wisely took the hint and backed away several steps (looking less than pleased). He started to talk again, but this time Gold couldn't make out anything.

_Let's just go, guys, _he said, stumbling away from the strange man. Neither pokémon protested to this, though they kept glancing back in the stranger's direction, apparently finding him to be very peculiar.

Gold, who was busy concentrating on simply getting to Azalea without any more encounters, didn't waste energy in looking back. If he had, he might have noticed several dark-clothed people hastily climbing out of the well and into the darkness of the surrounding forest, arms burdened by heavy sacks.

OoOoOoOoO

Kurt Oldman was by no means a worrisome sort of man. What with his days spent making custom pokéballs out of apricorns (a profession for which he was well-known), looking after his obscenely energetic granddaughter, and keeping pesky neighborhood kids off his property, he had no time to fret over small things.

Team Rocket, however, was no small thing.

Kurt squinted at his computer screen in distaste, as if that little action would do anything besides give him a headache. The article he was currently reading was published two days after the Violet City incident ('incident' really seemed like a very weak word for such a horrible event), and Kurt couldn't help but look back at it every day, as if it would give him more information if he waited long enough.

Kurt found himself reading the information on the statistics over and over again—there were two hundred eighty-nine people injured, and out of those, eight were killed. A good half of the people wounded were members of the police force—Detective Bertram (better known as Gym Leader Falkner), being among them.

The amount of pokémon affected was far greater—upwards of one thousand were injured, and at least a hundred killed. While many of those were young flying-types that had been trapped in the burning Gym for too long, Kurt had read that all of the Leader'spokémon were seriously wounded, and two were dead.

Things didn't stop there. Kurt had recently heard about a Rocket invasion that had happened at New Bark Town. Though no one was seriously injured, there was apparently a large amount of stolen items and property damage (particularly in the Elm Lab's case).

And to top all of that off, Azalea was now facing trouble. A few days back, four or five overly-friendly peddlers had come to town, advertising a 'rare, delicious delicacy'—which had turned out to be slowpoke tails. Most of the citizens were disgusted at the very idea of eating such a thing, and had been less than polite about making their thoughts known. The peddlers hadn't been able to stay long before they were practically run out of town.

The very next day, roughly a hundred slowpoke living in Azalea had disappeared. The one thing on everyone's minds, and where every finger pointed to, was Team Rocket.

"Grandpa?"

Kurt's head turned to the area on his right, where his granddaughter sat on the floor, a half-finished jigsaw puzzle in front of her.

"Yes, Maisy?" he asked in a rather gruff voice, as was his habit.

The seven-year-old, who was idly fiddling with one of the puzzle pieces, was entirely unaffected by his tone. "Do you think they're gonna find Slowpoke soon?" she asked for the fourth—no, fifth—time that day. Each time she asked it, Kurt noticed, she sounded a little less hopeful.

And, like every other time she inquired about their beloved household companion, Kurt replied with a simple "Pretty soon, I'd say. Just gotta be patient."

"Yeah," she muttered softly, staring unseeingly at her puzzle, hardly sounding like she'd even heard him. Suddenly, though, her head shot up, and her eyes flickered towards the door. Someone had just knocked.

In a flash, Maisy was on her feet, racing towards the door. "Maybe they've found him!" she squealed in excitement, and, before Kurt could stop her, grabbed the knob and yanked open the door.

Kurt was already walking over, scolding his granddaughter for her heedless behavior, when Maisy's shoulders slumped. "It's just a trainer," she said miserably, just as Kurt came to stand next to her. Maisy, without being told, slunk back to where she had been before. Kurt stayed where he was, staring suspiciously at the figure in the doorway.

The stranger was a short, weedy-looking young teenager who had obviously been out in the rain for a while, judging from his sodden clothes and shivering form. His two pokémon—a quilava and an aipom—looked equally pitiful, and were giving him identical grieving looks. _Please let us in, _they seemed to say.

Kurt stood there a moment, taking in the sight. The kid stared silently back at him, looking unsure of what to do.

"Well?" Kurt said unsympathetically. "What do you want?"

The stranger stared at him for a minute before snapping out of his reverie and quickly typing something out on the Pokégear strapped to his wrist. He held it up in front of Kurt's face.

Kurt impatiently batted the thing away, and glared at the trainer in annoyance. "Kid, I can't read such a small screen. Now, state your business before I throw you to the curb."

The boy flailed his arms in frustration (as aipom clung tightly to his shoulder), and let out what sounded like a cross between a growl and a sob. He pointed to the general area of his ear and shook his head vigorously.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "You deaf, sonny?" he asked blandly.

The trainer nodded.

Kurt gave a short laugh of surprise—he really hadn't expected the kid to say yes. "A deaf trainer, eh? Well, I'll be." Kurt stood there thoughtfully for a moment. The kid continued to stare at him, probably hoping to be invited inside.

Kurt studied the kid for a minute before gesturing for him to come in.

The trainer grinned happily before walking inside—and promptly tripping on the doormat.

Kurt, startled, roughly grabbed the boy's arms before he could fall. That move had obviously been unexpected, for the kid flinched away upon contact, stumbling backwards and accidentally hitting his back against the wall. The aipom screeched in pain as its tail was squished, then flung itself into the air as soon as it was free.

Maisy, who had been watching the proceedings from a short distance away, suddenly found herself with a sopping wet aipom huddled against her feet. Maisy slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her giggles. The quilava rolled its eyes in either amusement or annoyance, and the boy rubbed the back of his neck, looking rather sheepish.

Kurt shot the group a deadpan look before scanning his eyes around for something for the kid to write on. His eyes landed on a notepad and pen sitting at the corner of his desk. He snatched them up, wrote **What's your name? **on the paper, and handed it over.

The kid quickly scribbled out a name, then turned the notebook around. **Gold Heart, **it read. **Who are you?**

Kurt took the note pad back. **Kurt Oldman, **he wrote. **Why are you here?**

Gold took the notepad back. Kurt saw his mouth quirk upwards slightly, and Kurt knew that he found the name funny. _Curt old man, _he was surely thinking. Not that the kid had any right to laugh. Gold Heart, indeed.

Any annoyance Kurt had with the boy, however, quickly dissolved when Gold showed him what he had written next.

**I saw Team Rocket in Union Cave.**

Kurt stood there for a long moment, staring at the words on the page. He gave Gold a long, searching look. Gold's face showed no sign of dishonesty. But why had he come here, instead of to the police? Maybe he was just easier to find, he supposed.

Kurt decided against wasting time by asking. Instead, he simply wrote, **Show me**** where you saw them.**

Gold nodded, then made his way to the door. His pokémon, not needing to be prompted, quickly followed him. Kurt walked briskly after them.

"Maisy," Kurt called behind his shoulder. "Lock the door after I leave. Don't let anyone in unless it's me, understood?"

"Okay," Maisy said quietly. "But where are you going?"

Kurt paused at the doorway, while Gold waited impatiently outside. "I'll explain when I come back, okay?"

"Okay. . . ."

Kurt gave a stiff smile. "Good girl. I'll be back before you know it." And with that, he followed Gold out into the rain.

OoOoOoOoO

As Gold lead Kurt to Union Cave, he wondered vaguely what they would do when they got there. Would Kurt make him go back in there? Pfft—as if Gold would agree to _that_. Maybe the old man would just phone the police when they got to the entrance, then provide some sort of witness statement . . . ? Gold didn't have a lot of experience with police stuff—he had no idea what the proper protocol was.

He was beginning to wish that he'd just taken the time to find a police station or pokémon center, instead of going to random houses and knocking until he found somebody who would open their damn door.

Now he was in this situation, half walking, half jogging in the pouring rain, being followed by Curt Old Man.

How lovely.

They were just passing the well when Gold felt Aipom's voice in his head.

_Hey, bro? What are those people doing over there?_

Gold stopped in his tracks to see what Aipom was talking about (okay, so maybe it was more of an excuse to take a breather, but whatever). _Over_ _w__here?_

Aipom used his tail to point towards the entrance of the well. It was hard to see through wall of rain, but Gold could just make out dark figures going out of the well, then into the woods.

What were they doing?

Gold looked over in Kurt's direction, where he saw the old man standing about three feet away, and, instead of staring at him impatiently like Gold had expected, was squinting at the strange spectacle. Without a word, Kurt strode off towards the well, making a 'come along' gesture at Gold, not bothering to look back. Gold huffed in annoyance—what happened to heading to Union Cave?—but followed nonetheless.

_Well, something tells me that we're heading into trouble, _Quilava said dryly, falling in step beside Gold. _Who bets the old guy's gonna forget about us in—ooh, look at that._

Ahead of him, Gold saw Kurt having some sort of heated discussion with what he recognized as the guard he had met earlier. Kurt had his back turned to Gold, so he couldn't see his face, but the guard looked very angry and . . . worried?

Gold, Quilava, and Aipom watched watched from a safe distance as Kurt took several step forwards, forcing the guard to back up. The stranger groped around behind himself before finding the well's rim. He snarled, pointed a threatening finger towards Kurt, then vaulted himself over the edge and into the well.

_I . . . wasn't expecting that, _Quilava said as they watched Kurt approach the well and peer into it. _Let's hope he didn't fall too far._

Gold waved a dismissive hand. _Screw that. I hope he broke his back._

_. . . Um, okay. Oh, and now it looks like the old man's going down there, too, _Quilava observed, watching as Kurt cautiously descended down the well via an old-looking wooden ladder.

Gold gaped incredulously as Kurt disappeared into the well. _Are you kidding me? I try to show the old geezer where I saw the Rockets, then he decides to go spelunking instead? What the hell?_

Gold suddenly felt Aipom make some sort of vocal sound and tighten his grip on Gold's shoulder. _Bro! _he said urgently. _I heard a shout! I think the Kurt guy fell!_

Gold froze. _Are you sure it was him? _he asked. Slowly, reluctantly, he started to creep towards the well.

_I'm pretty sure it was him. I heard sort of a gasp, and then . . . a bad word._

Gold couldn't help but feel guilty when he wanted to laugh at that. He leaned over the edge of the well, eyes focused on the forest in front of him, unwilling to look down.

He took a deep calming breath, steeling himself for what he might see. He looked into the well—

—and almost instantly backed away. _Oh hell oh hell oh hell oh hell . . . I think he's dead. He's not moving._ _He's not moving at all._

Quilava's posture stiffened, and Aipom wrapped his arms around Gold's neck and promptly burst into tears. _Oh no! We killed him!_

Gold cringed at his words. _Well . . . maybe he's not dead,_ he reasoned, trying to convince both himself and his pokémon._We'll just have to go down there and see._ He gulped involuntarily, and looked at his two pokémon. If Kurt _was_ dead, he didn't want them seeing that. He pulled out both pokéballs. _Okay, guys, return._

Before either Quilava or Aipom could protest, they were both sucked into their pokéballs, leaving Gold alone in the rain. He took a breath, squared his shoulders, and walked purposely towards the well before he could talk himself out of it.

The ladder that lead underground was very slippery, as he quickly discovered after nearly falling off immediately after he first grabbed it. It was also covered in cold, slimy mud, probably from all the time people had climbed it.

The journey down was over far too soon. It was surprisingly light in the well, thanks to a large torch attached to the far wall, and Gold could clearly see Kurt's still form just feet from him. He shuddered.

_Get it together, you coward, _Gold thought to himself. _It's not the first time you've seen a dead person._

He took a slow step forward, then another, and that's all it took for him to reach Kurt. The old man was lying flat on his back. His eyes were closed.

Gold knelt down on the damp, pebbled ground, and slowly reached out a hand. He gave Kurt's shoulder a very light shake.

Kurt's eyes snapped open.

That movement was enough the send Gold scrambling backwards (he was _really_ expecting him to be dead, okay?), nearly colliding with the stone wall.

But whatever, at least Kurt was still alive. Gold crept back to his side, wondering what to do next.

Kurt solved that that problem for him. He fixed Gold with a surprisingly sharp stare. "Hey, kid. Can you understand what I'm saying?"

Gold sent him a withering glare—what a rudely-worded question—but nodded anyway.

"Good," Kurt said, completely ignoring Gold's irritated expression. "So here's the deal. I fell down here—"

Kurt abruptly stopped talking when he saw Gold roll his eyes at the obvious statement. "Don't give me that attitude, boy. Anyway, I hurt my back, so I can't move. Do you understand?"

Gold threw his hands in the air out of sheer annoyance. _'Obviously. I'm not a retard, you old geezer!'_

"I don't know what you just said to me," (no duh) "but I'm guessing it's something your mama would have tanned your hide for. As I was saying, send out your pokémon, and go down that tunnel," he said, gesturing to his right. Gold looked to where he was pointing and saw a small tunnel—seven feet tall at most—that was pitch black on the inside. "See what's going on over there."

Oh, right. There was that creepy guard guy down the tunnel, wasn't there? And now it was apparently Gold's job to investigate. Wasn't that just great?

Gold slowly got up, and cast one last glance at Kurt before turning and walking away.

After reaching to the mouth of the tunnel, he released Quilava, who upon appearing, looked quickly at the injured Kurt. _Is he alive? _she asked.

_Yeah. He just hurt his back, I guess. Now shut up before someone hears you._

Quilava glared at him. _I wasn't talking out loud in the first place, genius._

_. . . Well, never mind, then. Sorry._

_You are forgiven__.__ So, I'm_ _guessing we're supposed to go down that dark, spooky tunne__l of doom?_

_Yeah, _said Gold, already starting along. _Light the way._

Together, they walked hurriedly through the small tunnel, which turned out to be only about twenty feet long. The tunnel opened up to cave of sorts that was much larger than the other part of the well. The place was full of tall rock formations that blocked their view of much of the interior, and dark pools of water that looked strangely lifeless. Like the smaller section, this area was fairly bright—for a cave, that was.

Gold didn't see anyone. Besides a few zubat flitting about here and there, the place looked to be abandoned. But with all the rocks in the way, that wasn't exactly surprising.

Gold's slowly walked farther into the cave, eyes peeled for any sign of humans. Quilava suddenly stopped and pricked her ears forward.

_I hear something. Footsteps._

Gold stood still. _Where?_

_Somewhere ahead of us—oh shoot, it's that guy._

Before he could ask who 'that guy' was, Gold spotted a figure quickly advancing towards them. He saw two flashes of red light, and a pair of rattata appeared on the cave floor.

Almost on reflex, Gold ordered Quilava to use Ember, which sent the rats scurrying in different directions. Quilava bounded after one of them, while the other just stood there, clearly wondering what to do next.

Then, without warning, it started to speed towards Gold, teeth bared.

Well, it looked like it was improvisation time. . . .

Gold held up a hand in front of himself. _Stop! _he ordered.

Somewhat to his surprise, the rattata actually skidded to a halt and looked at him in confusion. _Hey__, did you just—_

That's all the rattata had time to say before Quilava made a sudden reappearance, sending the unfortunate normal-type flying into a wall with a powerful Quick Attack.

_Nice one._

_I know, right?_

The man, apparently out of usable pokémon, turned and ran away, not even bothering to return his rattata. Gold, acting on instinct, raced after him.

The man was fast, though, and Gold quickly lost sight of him. They were deeper into the cave now, but, strangely enough, it was brighter.

The pair slowed down and crept along quietly (well, Gold hoped they were being quiet), keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of human activity.

It turned out that it was a scent, not a sight, that tipped them off. Gold's nose wrinkled as he breathed in a nauseating, coppery smell.

_I'm gonna assume that you can smell what I __can__, _said Gold, keeping his mental tone calm, despite the queasy feeling in his stomach.

Quilava's reply was short. _Yeah. Blood._

OoOoOoOoO

Proton was beginning to get impatient.

Not that impatience was something he was unfamiliar with—he felt it every day—but he had no particular reason to be experiencing such a feeling right now. Everything was going smoothly and according to plan; the town's slowpoke were all rounded up and in cages, their tails were being efficiently harvested, and several dozen tails had already been wrapped up and shipped out to Mahogany Town, where they would hopefully generate more revenue then they had here in Azalea.

But still, some part of him seemed to keep telling him to hurry it up, to get it done faster. Proton gave an internal huff (to do so out loud would have been indecorous) and crossed his arms, trying to content himself with simply observing as the Rocket grunts busily sliced the tails off the weakly protesting slowpoke, then handed the commodities off to the ones who would wrap them in paper and stuff them in bags for quick transit.

Surveying the process _did_ help a little, but it wasn't quite enough. Sure, the pools of blood collecting on the ground were rather nice to look at, and the painful moans of the slowpoke had a sort of gratifying quality to them, Proton couldn't help but wish for something more . . . _extreme_.

Perhaps _that_ was the cause of his current restlessness. He just wanted a bit of excitement. Proton stood with his back against a wall, staring blankly into space as thoughts of the more exhilarating kind—human blood pouring from open wounds, bodies impaled on wooden beams and metal poles, agonized screams of pain—swirled gently about through his head, giving him a distinct sense of longing. His hands itched to grab something sharp and start tearing at something. He didn't particularly care what he would tear, just so long as it was something that could flail around and make a lot of screechy noises. And could make a reasonable amount of facial expressions.

"Executive Proton, sir!"

Proton shifted his eyes slightly to look at the owner of the voice which had called him, and who was currently standing several meters in front of him, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. The man was wearing a hat that hid some of his features, and had on a long raincoat that covered him down to his calves, but Proton knew who he was.

"What is it, Alan? Why are you not guarding the entrance?" Proton asked, voice neutral.

"Uh, well, sir, there was some old guy wantin' to get down the well, and he kept tryin' to get me to move. Then I went down here to warn everybody—'cause he just wouldn't go—and he tried to follow me, but he fell most the way. I think he could be dead, sir."

Proton's expression was unreadable. "You think? Did you not check?"

Alan faltered. "Uh, well, I didn't see him breathin' or nothin', but, uh, I didn't have time to check, 'cause then I started seein' someone else climbin' down, and then stuff happened, and then he went and beat both my pokémon with just his one."

By now, the other grunts—numbering eight in total—had stopped their work to listen in to the conversation. All eyes were on the Executive, whose face was completely indecipherable, barring a single raised eyebrow, which some might say could indicate interest.

Now, Proton wasn't interested in either the incapacitated man or the 'stuff' that happened, but he _was_ interested in the other intruder. "And is this 'someone else' coming our way?"

"Yessir, I think so—but I don't think he's got no chance of bein' real trouble. He's just some kid."

Proton smiled thinly. "'Just some kid', you say?" he asked, then his smile dropped. "Well, children can call the authorities, too, my friend." Before Alan could come up with anything else to say, Proton snapped out, "Everyone else, prepare for evacuation!"

As the other grunts rushed to collect all the tails they had harvested, Proton stared at Alan, and, for the first time, look angry. "Had you the meager ability to actually prevent a _child_ from calling for help," Proton said lowly, voice barely above a whisper, "we might have been safe to finish our work here and make a decent profit."

Alan turned an alarming shade of gray. "I-I'm so sorry sir . . . I deserve to be punished. . . ."

"Oh, you _will_ be punished, grunt, you _will_ be. Now go help the others!"

Alan quickly stumbled away from him, just in time for Proton to get a good view of a streak of fire being blown towards the ceiling. It clearly had not been intended to hit anyone, and simply faded in the air, but it had been enough to get everyone's attention—and for Proton to get a good look at the newcomers. Upon seeing the human, his brain jolted in recognition.

It was the boy from Violet City.

The one who had confronted him. The one who had attacked his pokémon. The one who had made him lose a hostage.

Proton felt like scowling, but instead simply smiled at the trainer in acknowledgment.

The grunts froze in place as they watched to see what Proton would do. "It's a pleasure to see you again, young trainer. You remember me, don't you? Though, as I recall, we never had the chance to introduce ourselves. My name is Proton," he said, then gestured to the other members, "and these are my subordinates."

The boy said nothing. He stared at Proton with intense dislike, then swept his gaze around the rest of the area, briefly taking in the sight of the grunts. His eyes stopped at the slowpoke in the cages. The pokémon standing next to him—a quilava, Proton noted—stiffened at the sight and raised the hair along its back. How cute.

Proton smiled in amusement and approached the trainer, who looked wary, but defiant.

The Executive stopped several feet in front of the trainer, still smiling. He casually stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and regarded the boy thoughtfully. "You know," he said in a conversational tone, "you remind me a bit of a trainer named Red—you may have heard of him. He was the strong, silent type, or so I was told—I never had the honor of meeting him, you see.

"You, too, are silent—" Proton though back to their first meeting, where the trainer had bested him, all thanks to sheer _luck_.

"—but not so strong." He withdrew a hand from his jacket and held up a gun.

Both trainer and pokémon froze in place as Proton pointed the firearm at the boys forehead. "Back up against the wall," he ordered, removing all traces of friendliness from his voice, and replacing his smile with a sneer.

The trainer silently complied with his order, wide, golden eyes never leaving his face. Proton studied those eyes, looking for signs of fear. He was almost impressed when he observed that the boy's face was almost entirely blank. The fear was there, certainly, but it was well-hidden. Proton smiled in amusement. He would have fun with this child.

"Everyone!" he barked out suddenly, not taking his eyes off the trainer, "execute Evacuation Plan Four!

The grunts quickly ran out the cave with their most necessary supplies, leaving Proton and the trainer-pokémon duo alone. Proton coolly reached into the trainer's pockets, finding only a pokéball and a trainer card. Proton nonchalantly pocketed the ball, then looked at the trainer card, keeping his gun an inch away from the boy's head.

"Well, let's see what this card has to say about you," he said, smiling slightly. "Your name is Gold Jason Heart—poor child, what a garish name—you are only fourteen years old . . . oh, but look, you'll be fifteen in a couple months now, happy early birthday, my dear boy. And—oh! Well, well, well. Isn't this interesting." His smile grew wider.

Proton looked into the boy's eyes, which still held the same nearly blank expression. "It says here," he began slowly, "right in this little list of medical information," '_Profound deafness_'.

"You . . . are _deaf_."

The boy squared his shoulders and looked at him coldly, as if to say, _You got a problem with that?_

Proton laughed softly. "A deaf pokémon trainer. What a _joke_." Proton was pleased to see the boy's expression darken considerably at his words. Proton looked down at the card in his hand once more. "Oh, but it says here you live in New Bark Town. And yet you've managed to come all the way to Azalea—_what_ an accomplishment!" Proton would have given the trainer—the _handicapped_ trainer—a slow clap, had his hands not been occupied. He settled with a patronizing smile.

"Well, Mister Gold Heart, I suppose it's time for me to take my leave. But first, I'd like to leave a little calling card here—so that the people know what they're dealing with, you see." Proton slowly pressed the gun against his captive's forehead, enjoying the frightened look on the boy's face, and the pitiful whimper of the quilava next to him.

Slowly, deliberately, he cocked the gun. It was a shame he hadn't the time to have more fun with his victim. . . .

Then, without warning, the trainer dropped to the floor, and before Proton could readjust his aim, he felt an electrical charge surge through his gun and up his arm. It wasn't a severe shock, but it was more than enough to make him jerk back, dropping both items from his hands.

Proton swiftly stepped out of the way of an incoming Quick Attack from the quilava, and pulled out two pokéballs. "Koffing, Zubat, attack!" he called out as he flung his pokéballs into the air.

Koffing and Zulbat were onto the quilava as soon as they were released. The quilava fired a large Ember at Zubat, but it flew around the flames and slammed into the fire-type at full force (which, admittedly, wasn't very hard).

Proton's eyes skimmed the area for his dropped weapon, and quickly found it. To his displeasure (though not at all to his surprise), he saw that the gun was partially melted, obviously thanks to the quilava. He growled and directed his gaze back to the battle.

The quilava was still very much alive and kicking, and had received a teammate. Proton raised an eyebrow at the small aipom running about, sending out Thunderbolts—pathetically weak Thunderbolts—in random directions. So that must have been the cause of the electricity.

Proton, now that he no longer had to worry about anyone hearing him, let out a harsh growl. "Koffing! Zubat! Target the quilava!" As he and his opponent watched the brawl, Proton regretted not bringing any strong pokémon. He certainly hadn't planned on needing them.

As Zubat flew after the quilava, which was dodging about every which way, the aipom sent a Thunderbolt towards Proton's pokémon. Proton almost snorted in amusement when the attack didn't even almost connect.

His amusement faded somewhat when Zubat was hit straight-on by the quilava's Flame Wheel. Zubat was sent spiraling in the opposite direction, then fell to the ground, unconscious. Proton silently returned the bat, frowning in displeasure. That left Koffing to handle the other two on its own.

"Koffing, use Tackle!"

Koffing was quick to obey the command—and hit the wrong target. Protong was very much tempted to facepalm.

"No! You were supposed to hit the quilava, you stupid pokémon, not the aipom!" He didn't bother to celebrate the fact that the aipom was now out of commission—it was a small threat compared to the fire-type.

Koffing gave a "Koff!" of apology, and went after the quilava instead.

It wasn't fast enough—the quilava was already speeding towards Koffing with another Flame Wheel. Koffing was sent flying backwards, nearly colliding with the wall. The quilava puffed itself up in triumph, and prepared another attack.

Proton knew how this fight was going to end. He started to sowly walk towards the part of the cave that would lead him back to ground level, all the while keeping an eye on the battle.

The boy's eyes darted over to him, giving him a wary, appraising look. Proton smile calmly at him, then pulled out a pokéball.

"Koffing, return!"

The instant his pokémon was sucked back inside, Proton sprinted off towards freedom. He had no time for this boy; he had other work to do, far more important work, work that would put thoughts of this Gold Heart out of his head.

And yet, as he raced out the well and through the forest, there was only one thought on his mind.

_I'll see you again, boy._

OoOoOoOoO

Violet City's most popular outdoor cafe was jam-packed with customers tonight, and Lyra counted herself lucky that she had even been able to get a seat. She could understand why it was so popular—the food here was fantastic. The waiters were friendly and nice, too, and the ambiance was pleasant, and that fact that it catered to both people and pokémon was great, but seriously, the food. Lyra sighed luxuriously as she breathed in the smell of her perfectly seasoned pasta dish.

"Well, guys, how's dinner?" she asked her three pokémon (she was going to count Herecross as hers for the time being).

Pidgey chirped in response, not looking up from the oatmeal muffin Lyra had bought her, while Marill and Herecross both made sounds of agreement to . . . whatever Pidgey had said. Whatever it was, they seemed to be enjoying their meals as well, so Lyra nodded in satisfaction. "Good," she said. _Because this stuff cost me like a zillion yen._

"Excuse me?" a quite voice to her left suddenly said, causing Lyra to startle slightly in surprise and swivel her head in the direction of the sound.

A blue-haired girl, probably about her age, was standing near the table. She gave an apologetic smile. "I, um, can't seem to be able to find an open table. Would it be all right if I sat here?"

Lyra grinned brightly. "Sure! Have a seat," she said. She probably sounded a little too eager, but hey, she hadn't talked to a girl her age in forever.

The girl smiled again and pulled out a seat and sat down directly across from Lyra. She extended a pale, smooth-skinned hand in Lyra's direction. "I'm Crystal. Crystal Alma," she said. "But most people call me Chris."

Lyra gave Chris's hand a firm shake. "Nice to meet you, Chris. I'm Lyra. Lyra Lev. But most people call me . . . uh, well, they call me Lyra."

Chris gave a soft laugh. Well, it was more of a short 'hmm' with a laughing sort of undertone to it, but Lyra was going to count it as an actual laugh. "Nice to meet you, Lyra. So, are these your pokémon?" she said in a politely conversational tone.

Lyra nodded. "Yeah. Well, Herecross here isn't really mine—he's just been staying with me for the past few days, long story—but Marill and Pidgey are. Say hi, guys."

The pokémon friendly gave waves in greeting, to which Chris responded in kind. "Nice to meet you all," she greeted with a smile. "So," she said, turning back to Lyra, "you're a trainer, I guess?" When Lyra nodded, Chris asked, "Are you going to try the Gym Challenge?"

Lyra shrugged. "I'm not sure. Imagine trying to beat all eight Gym Leaders—especially Leader Clair! Ugh," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically (Chris looked slightly amused). "I might, though, who knows. How 'bout you? Are you gonna try for all the badges?"

Chris's smiled faltered, and looked at Lyra blankly for a second, as though unsure of how to respond. Lyra stared back, confused. Did she say something wrong?

It took a moment before she realized something. "Oh, wait! I didn't even ask if you were even a trainer, did I?" Lyra said, resisting the urge to nervously rub the back of her neck. "Hehe, I guess I'm just so unused to traveling that I assume everybody I meet is a trainer."

Chris looked somewhat relived at that. "Ah, that makes sense," she said, laughing a little. "I was beginning to wonder if you had been spying on me or something." She grinned sheepishly. "But yeah, I'm a trainer."

"Cool."

The conversation lapsed briefly as a handsome young waiter came to their table. Chris smiled politely as she made her order, and pretended not to notice when the waiter gave her a flirtatious wink. Lyra raised an eyebrow after he had left.

"Uh, did that guy just hit on you?"

Chris didn't bat an eyelash. "Yeah, pretty much. I go here a lot, and I've kinda noticed that he does that with a lot of the girls who eat here. They seem to really like it."

Lyra frowned. "Well, he didn't wink at me," she said, feeling almost left out.

It was Chris's turn to frown. "I think it'd be pretty creepy if he flirted with someone your age. How old are you, twelve?"

Lyra looked at her indignantly. "I'm almost fifteen!" she huffed. "Geesh, what is it with people thinking I'm some sort of little kid?"

"Hey, looking young's not such a bad thing," Chris said reasonably. "You'll appreciate it when you're forty-something, and everyone tells you that you look thirty-something."

Lyra tilted her head. "You know, I actually never thought of it that way," she said slowly, pleased at the thought. "That's something I should tell my best friend. He looks pretty young for his age, too." Lyra grinned, then pulled her wallet out from her pocket. She took out a photo and held it up for Chris to see. "There he is, sitting next to me. He's thirteen in that picture. Isn't he cuuuuuuuute?"

Chris grinned at the photo for a split second before her smile dropped. "Wait a second." She looked up at Lyra, then back to the picture, then back at Lyra again. "You're Lyra," she said blankly.

"Uh, yeah. . . ."

"Like, _the_ Lyra! Gold's friend!" Before Lyra could indignantly demand to know when she ever met Gold, Chris smacked her own forehead with her palm. "I'm such an idiot," she said rather loudly, attracting strange looks from both Lyra's pokémon and a couple of nearby restaurant customers. Chris blushed hotly when she noticed the stares—and Lyra's surprisingly intimidating glower.

"So," Lyra said in a faux-casual voice, leaning back in her seat, "how do you know Gold?"

Chris cleared her throat. "We, uh, met during the Team Rocket incident." She held up a hand when Lyra opened her mouth to speak. "Please let me finish—I'll make it short. We were caught up in all the ruckus, so we teamed up for safety. Later on, Gold mentioned you at one point, telling me to let him know if anything weird happens in Violet, because he's worried about you. That's all there is to it."

Lyra narrowed her eyes. "Okay, I guess that makes sense," she said. "But I'm still kinda mad right now—at Gold, not you, just to be clear."

Chris nodded. "I can understand that," she agreed. "I guess I wouldn't be too happy if I found out that my best friend did that."

"I know, right? I mean, he mentioned _nothing_ about you when he told me about the Rockets. Seriously, since when do friends not tell their friends when they make other friends—"

"Wait, what?" Chris interrupted, furrowing her eyebrows. "Not to be rude, but first of all, Gold's not my friend—he's an acquaintance. Second of all, I was thinking you'd be mad that he's keeping tabs on you—not for making a friend."

Lyra gave an unladylike snort and rolled her eyes. "Give me a break. Keeping tabs on me? We're _friends_, Chris. We watch each other's backs. I would've done the same thing," she said, as if it were obvious (and it was, to her). "That's what friends are supposed to do."

Chris looked at her doubtfully, but didn't argue. "I guess I really wouldn't know," she said with a shrug. "I don't have any friends. But still, if you really think about it, it does seem kind of—"

"Whoa, wait, seriously?" Lyra interrupted. She stared at Chris as though she had never seen anything quite like her. "You don't have _any_ friends? Like, not even one? Why not?" she demanded.

"Um, no reason, really. I just don't happen to have any."

Lyra muttered a soft "wow" under her breath. Then she suddenly straightened in her chair and smiled broadly. Chris could practically see a light-bulb flash over her head. "Well, in that case," she said, holding up a finger for emphasis. "I have a proposition." She paused briefly (probably to build tension).

_Waiting. . . ._

"I can be your friend!" she finally said, then sat there with a big grin on her face, waiting for Chris to make a response.

Chris felt rather . . . dumbfounded. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. "I, uh . . . well. You know we just met, right?"

Lyra paused for a second. "Well, okay, have it your way. We can be friendly _acquaintances_, as you would put it, then slowly and steadily become friends. Taking it nice and slow."

Chris wasn't sure how to react. "Well, that's very nice of you, Lyra," she began, "but I'm not sure I'm exactly friend material."

Lyra waved her hand dismissively. "You haven't even tried being a friend, though. Come on, Chris! Just give me a chance! We can head to Azalea Town together, and if you still don't want to be friends, we can call it quits, no hard feelings." Lyra clasped her hands together and looked at her beseechingly.

Chris, to her own surprise, was very tempted by the offer. Having a friend sounded . . . pretty nice. "Well . . . okay."

Lyra squealed and clapped her hands softly together. "Awesome!"

Chris held up a finger. "I do have a small condition though. Your pokémon have to be okay with me coming along with you."

"No problem," Lyra said with confidence. "Hey! Pidgey, Marill," she said, catching the attention of her companions, who had apparently been in some sort of deep discussion with each other. They stopped their chatter and looked at her expectantly. "How would you like it if Chris here coming along with us on our adventure?"

Pidgey, ever the agreeable one, made a chirp of consent, and Marill gave a little hop of excitement, probably liking the liking the idea of another potential playmate.

Lyra smiled in approval. "Sweet." She turned to Herecross. "Well, Herecross, I know you'll probably be heading back home any time now, but what do you think of Chris? Does she seem like a good traveling companion to you?"

Herecross gave Chris a critical, searching look, giving her the feeling she was being x-rayed. After a long moment, Chris seemed to have passed his test, if Herecross's smile was anything to go by.

Before either of the girls could say anything else, the waiter suddenly appeared with a steaming plate of spaghetti. Chris thanked him politely, and the server smiled and asked if there was anything else he could do for them. They both said "No, thank you," and the waiter turned to leave—until Lyra spoke up again.

"Oh, hey, waiter guy," she said. "I'm fifteen years old, just so you know. So you can hit on me if you want."

Chris choked on a mouthful of her food, and the waiter just stood there awkwardly for a second before mumbling, "Uh, okay," and leaving the scene.

Meanwhile, Lyra just sat there serenely while Chris regained her breath. She gaped at Lyra. "I can't believe you just did that," she said, covering her mouth in an attempt to avoid a laughing fit.

Lyra shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Chris shook her head in disbelief, and studied the other girl for a moment or two. "You know, Lyra," she said slowly, a grin spreading across her face, "I think I'm going to like being your friend."

OoOoOoOoO

Kurt had just settled himself down on the living room's only armchair when the clock struck ten—two hours since he had gotten home. He sighed and let his head fall against the back of the chair.

The night had been . . . unpleasant. Falling down the well and hitting his back hadn't even been the worst part—it had only taken around ten minutes before he was able to painfully haul himself to his feet, and he'd be back to normal in a few days.

He had managed to walk up to a wall—he had wanted something to lean against to get some strength back before he went charging off deep into the well—when he saw a group of people in Rocket uniforms hastily leaving the well. Kurt had frozen in place against the stone wall, trying to remain unseen and unheard. None of the Rockets had noticed him as they passed by, and for that, Kurt had been relieved and grateful.

But then he had remembered something that no good-hearted person should have forgotten in the first place—the boy.

Even thinking about it made Kurt's stomach churn with guilt. He had unknowingly sent a child—a _child_—into a Rocket death trap.

Against all odds, though, Gold had been alive and unharmed when Kurt made found him at the end of the cave. How he had been able to stay in one piece, Kurt didn't know and didn't ask.

The slowpoke, on the other hand, hadn't been so lucky—they were all crammed tightly in metal cages, half of them with severed tails. Gold had been hard at work freeing them, yanking off sections of the cages after the quilava had melted the surrounding bars. As soon as Kurt had arrived, he had gotten Gold's attention long enough for him to borrow the boy's Pokégear and call the police. Gold, busy with the cages, had disregarded him completely after that.

The next half hour had been a pain in the neck, what with the police arriving and ordering witness statements from the both of them. As much as Kurt had found the whole process annoying, it must have been even worse for Gold, who had been forced to write his statements down, due to the fact that there was apparently no one in the entire Azalea police force who could sign. Incompetent dumbasses.

Gold had marched off as soon as he had been allowed, with a _haha, freedom!_ sort of grin on his face, which Kurt found vaguely amusing. Kurt wondered how the police had been done with the kid so quickly—then again, maybe they were just too annoyed with him to keep him around very long. Kurt had watched his antics from afar, trying not to smile. It had been apparent that Gold had been doing everything in his power to be obnoxious as possible, from rolling his eyes at practically everything the investigators said, to trying to walk off before they were done interrogating him. Kurt would have liked to try that escape technique himself—had he been a bratty, immature teenager with no sense of decorum.

Oh, the sorrows of being a civilized, dignified old man who actually respected authority.

But at least he was home at last, with a safely returned slowpoke, a granddaughter who was cheerful once again, and the optimistic hope that the Rockets wouldn't make a return.

Well, not to this town, at any rate. Where they would strike next, Kurt didn't know.

OoOoOoOoO

A/N You know what I learned while writing this thing?

I. Cannot. Write. Dialogue. Between. Two. Girls. -.- Someone, anyone, _please_ give me some advice on that; I just don't know what to do to make it less dumb. (cries forever)

Another important thing I learned is that I LOVE writing from Proton's perspective! :D I hope it turned out all right, because I'd hate for you guys to not enjoy that part while I did. D: Especially because that was perhaps my favorite part of the chapter.

And now it's Q and A time, just in case you people had these questions in mind (and because I'm a chatterbox):

Q: I noticed Chris seemed a bit more formal and proper with Lyra than she has been with anyone else. Why is that?

A: Think about it this way. In her first appearance, when she receives her starter, she's basically giddy with excitement (and she's also putting on a bit of an act with that, though I can't tell you why right now), so she's a bit out of character. Her interactions with her pokémon are also more casual, because, well, they're her pokémon. As for Gold, well, they met in a thoroughly unusual and awkward manner, which kinda threw Chris off her game. Her meeting with Lyra is her first real opportunity to be her more graceful and decorous self.

Q: Is it just me, or does Lyra seem kinda rude?

A: I'd say she's just a little socially retarded. Having Gold for a friend doesn't help matters, either.

Q: Kurt's last name. Why.

A: It was funny. Sue me. :P

Q: Gold's middle name. Explain.

A: Giving him a regular middle name sort of 'normalizes' his full name (in my opinion), making it a bit less . . . punny. As for giving him the name Jason, I didn't want to go with Ethan or Hibiki—his last name is clichéd enough as it is. Also, he's named after someone. As to whom(who?) he is named after, you'll find out in the next chapter (though I'm sure most of you could make a good guess already). A bit of random trivia here: I also gave Silver, Lyra, and Chris middle names as well, not that I know if they'll ever be mentioned. xD

Q: Kurt was being a bit of a grump, wasn't he?

A: To be fair, he was under a lot of stress, and Gold being inexcusably rude didn't help matters. Let's face it, folks, Gold kinda deserved it. (Except for Kurt's initial . . . curtness. That was uncalled for.)

Q: I find the mention Gold's aversion to men rather odd and out-of-the-blue. What's the deal?

A: For one thing, please note that Gold a pretty small guy, and would be only too easy to overpower by someone larger than he. (There's another reason, too, but I won't get into that until much later.) As for it being out-of-the-blue, believe me when I say that it isn't—I planned this since the beginning. Also, please note that I said Gold distrusted men "for the most part". The only time I've ever shown him interacting with a grown male was when said male was either utterly harmless-looking in the first place, and someone he's used to being around anyway (Prof. Elm); a trusted and esteemed member of society, whose scene wasn't even told from Gold's perspective anyway, and who's only physical contact with him was a quick handing out of prize money and a Badge (Falkner); an old man, with whom he _did_ visibly show some aversion to (Kurt); a shady guard dude who Gold treated with open hostility (Alan); and a Rocket Executive, who he was clearly afraid of (and again, wasn't even shown from his perspective). Trust me, my friends, I'm not throwing in random stuff as I go—I'm a man with a plan. ;) (And before some sicko even THINKS about it, there will be NO sexual abuse stuff so much as HINTED at in this story! Get your head out of the gutter!)

Q: Gold didn't seem _that_ afraid of Proton, or at least not afraid enough to be realistic.

A: Remember that Gold doesn't communicate vocally—he signs. Ever seen two deaf people having a discussion before? It involves a lot of facial expressions. Not to mention that when Gold is reading someone's lips, he has to look straight at their faces the whole time. As a result, Gold is very accustomed to various facial expressions and knowing what they mean. That gives him an advantage when it comes to keeping aware of his own outward appearance. (Though, Proton, being Proton, still saw right through him.)

Q: Wait, so Falkner's a detective? How come?

A: Well, he is one in the manga, so I decided to make him one in my story. And again, it's not something I hadn't planned all along—there just happened to be no opportunity to mention it before. Blame the dumb (I mean inexperienced!) author for not being able to slip in that bit of information before now.

Q: Um, what's up with Alan and his accent and speech patterns?

A: In the games, as there probably already know, there is a Rocket member guarding Slowpoke Well when the player first arrives, and he doesn't seem like too bright a guy—hence the bad grammar I decided to throw in. As for his little accent (and really, his grammar as well), I just wanted to make a generic grunt less generic. The name Alan, btw, is just something I came up with on the run, because he's not all that important, heheh.

Q: Uh, why does Proton even know Alan's first name?

A: Proton knows how to manipulate people. In the games, he's been described as scary and cruel, but also very much well-liked. It works like this: Proton refers to all the grunts (that he works with regularly) by their first names, and is generally civil and friendly to them, making them feel 'special', in a way—but if they displease him, they're in for a world of pain, and they know it. They all like and admire him in a twisted, Stockholm Syndrome kind of way, and that's exactly how Proton wants it.

Q: While we're on the subject of Proton, why didn't he just kill Gold and go on with his business, instead of sending everyone away, then running away himself?

A: As a Rocket Executive, Proton's got a lot riding on his shoulders. The possibility that Gold (or Kurt) was somehow able to phone the police was enough for Proton to decide to get out before things got too complicated.

Q: Hey, how did Proton know Gold could understand him?

A: He figured it out on his own, silly.

Q: Waaaaaaait a minute! You never mentioned if Chris was going to try to get any Badges!

A: Yes, I'm aware. :P That wasn't a slip-up, peeps; that was intentional.

Okay, that's enough with the Q and A. There's more I want to talk about, but I think you guys have suffered enough.

Next chapter is our first interlude, where you'll get a peek into the past, see hints of how Team Rocket started, hear mentions of a certain red-head's parents, and meet a family that was once whole and happy.

I would love it if you reviewed and/or voted on my poll. :D Whether or not you decide to do either of those, have a good day, and thanks for reading! This is Geek, signing out!


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